Douleur
by aweena
Summary: Ryan is taken against his will, and while the team struggles to find him, he struggles to preserve his own life.  It's a little CaRWash later on.  Rated M for extreme violence, torture scenes, language, etc...bwa ha ha ha, enter if you dare. FINAL CHAP UP
1. Chapter 1

**All right, this is my first CSI Miami story, just thought you should know, don't know why, but ok. I don't own CSI Miami, but I wish I did, then I could have more fun...this is a bit on the dark side, so if you don't like it, leave! Torture scenes, etc...I'm in love. :) Ok, so I hope you like this first chap! **

**"****Douleur****"**

**By Aweena**

**Chapter 1**

It was damn cold in that room. He could see the mist of his breath rising, swirling in the air, like cigarette smoke. He had no idea where he was, and didn't really care, as long as he could find a way out. His arms ached, his hands were already numb from both the cold and the chains binding them. Why was it so cold? It was the middle of summer in Miami, what in the hell was going on? He could feel his blood running down his arms, dripping onto the floor that seemed so far away, but so close. He wondered how long he'd been suspended there, in that room. The only light in there was the light of the moon, streaming in through the barred window to his right, but it was enough to see that the room was completely empty. He closed his eyes as he felt fatigue take over again, and he heard a door open behind him.

"Detective Wolfe," came a voice.

Ryan didn't answer, but kept his breathing slow and steady, hoping the man would think he was still unconscious.

"Detective, don't fuck with me," he spoke out.

Ryan heard footsteps, and when he finally opened his eyes, the man was standing just a few feet in front of him.

"What do you want with me?" Ryan asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

The man pulled his knife out and stepped forward. He ran in slowly down the front of the CSI's blue T-shirt and said, "I think you know what I want with you. But first, I want to ask you a few questions."

Wolfe tried to make out a face beneath the darkness, but could only see certain features, only the blonde hair, and he could barely see the small light glinting from his eyes.

"Maybe if you'd let me down, I could help," Ryan said, his voice shaking from the pain, cold, and fear.

The man laughed slightly, tracing Ryan's face with the knife's blade, barely pressing on it. "Oh, you would like that, Detective. Wouldn't you? Bet you'd like to come down from there, your arms are probably numb, by now."

"Just my hands," Ryan said quietly, feeling the exhaustion tugging on his mind. "You said you had some questions."

"Yes. Getting right to the point, I see. You're learning. Been spending time with Lieutenant Caine, Detective," said the man. "So, Wolfe, I want to know where Detective Duquesne is. She seemed to have disappeared just moments before I got to her apartment. I hope she's not in any trouble," the man told Wolfe.

"She's safe from you," Ryan said through clenched teeth. Oh, God, he knew who it was.

"Tell you what. How 'bout we play a game?" the man asked. "I was actually looking forward to playing it with Detective Duquesne, but since I couldn't find her...you'll have to do. I ask you a question, and if you answer correctly, you'll be one step closer to freedom. Every time you refuse to answer, or you answer wrong...well, you'll find out, won't you? So, you gonna play?" he asked him, running the knife blade up Wolfe's arm.

"No," Ryan said flatly. "Go fuck yourself."

"I said don't fuck with _me_, Wolfe," the man growled sinisterly, and pressed on the knife, the blade, cut through the skin on Ryan's arm, going clear though, then he pulled it out. He ignored the screams, and spoke again. "Don't fuck with me."

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?!" Ryan shouted, grunting as he kicked out at the man, missing, and putting more stress on his back and arms. "What's your problem?" he whispered, feeling a cold sweat cover his body. God damn, he wished he had his jacket. It would make dieing a hell of a lot more bearable.

"I've already told you my problem, Wolfe, and if you play my game, we can work on it. Unless you want to continue our current one?" he asked, placing the bloody knife on Ryan's cheek.

Ryan closed his eyes and his breathing became irregular and labored. He clenched his jaw and tried to stay calm, but it wasn't close to working.

"Tell me...Ryan. What do you feel? Panic? Fear? Are you afraid of me, Detective?" the man asked.

"Who are you?" Ryan asked, keeping his eyes closed. He already knew who it was, but he couldn't remember why, the name wouldn't come to him, pain took the place of memory.

"Oh, come on, Detective. You were just working on my case. I'm sure you remember James Carr?"

With that, Ryan's eyes snapped open.

"There you go. And you would be just like him...but you are so much more special than that. It'd be a shame to kill you so quickly. All right, then. A different game. You've got nothing to lose...but your life, of course, right? But you'll lose that if you don't play, won't you? This is your only chance, Detective Wolfe," the man said, walking behind Ryan.

Ryan heard metal clanking as he shivered slightly from the cold, then felt butterflies, pain, and he was on the floor. His bindings were quickly removed moments later, and it was quiet, so Ryan looked up. He saw the man standing there with a metal pipe. Ryan could hardly move, everything felt heavy.

"What's my name, Detective? I want to hear you say it," the man said.

"You're sick," Ryan whispered. His breathing was shallow now as he fought to stay conscious. Pain erupted in his side, and he let out an involuntary cry as the pipe met his stomach. He was already on his side as he coughed up blood, tasting it on his tongue, his lips, and it made him feel sick.

"Say it, Ryan," the man said.

"Ben...Benningzer," Ryan said, barely audible.

"My first name, Detective," Benningzer said.

"Why are you doing this? You bastard," Ryan said, knowing it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but he didn't care. He felt the pipe hit his side, and he let out another pain-filled cry as he held it, coughing again, tasting more blood. He stared at the gray concrete, feeling it chilling his already freezing skin as consciousness threatened to leave him. "Joseph," he whispered finally, closing his eyes.

"There, now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Benningzer asked.

He opened his eyes slowly and glared at the darkness in front of him.

"Now, on to our little game. If you can make it out of this room, you can go free. If you can't..."Benningzer said, lifting Ryan's head with the pipe, making him looking him in the eyes, "I'll kill you, and Detective Duquesne will take your place."

**Yes. That's how Ryan's day is going today. Please review, and tell me what you think! I don't care what you think...unless it's a good thing...I'm a punk rocker and love it, I'm the next Avril, so get the f outta here:)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own this, yada yada. All right, so we're moving again, and this is the fifth time in the past two years, I'm having to move all my stuff into yet another house, including my computer, and even though it's like the last thing I move, I still may not be able to update soon for a while. So get it while it's hot! hehe.**

**Chapter 2**

**The Previous Day**

"Who's our victim, Alexx?" Horatio asked, kneeling down beside her.

"His name's James Carr, got it off the ID. You'll have to double check it, though. Poor baby was beaten to death, signs of torture. I'll give you the details when I get him back to the post," Alexx said. "I'd say he's been dead for at least a few hours...four, maybe."

"Ok, thank you," he said, then stood back up as Alexx covered the man back up.

"H. There aren't any signs of struggle, we're thinking the body was dumped. Alexx is gonna contact us when she gets prints...if she gets prints. We've got one sick perp on our hands," Eric said.

"All right, as soon as you find something, tell me. Where's Calleigh and Mr. Wolfe?" Horatio asked.

"Um...Calleigh called in sick, Wolfe's on the way. You want me to fill him in when he gets here, or let him pick the scene?" Eric asked him.

"Both would be great, Eric. In case this is a dump job, look for peel marks. If we can get a vehicle, we can get our killer," said Horatio, then he walked off.

Eric nodded, then went off to collect evidence.

**M.E.'s Office**

**2 Hours Later**

"What do you got?" Ryan asked Alexx.

She turned to Ryan and Eric as she spoke.

"If you look at his hands, here, it shows signs of bindings, you see those grooves?" she asked.

"Yeah, looks like it was from a chain," Ryan said.

Alexx nodded. "He has multiple skull fractures, other complete breaks throughout his body. I haven't cut up open completely, yet, but I'd say cause of death is exsanguination. He's got marks across his back, probably from a bar. No wood splinters, and plastic wouldn't make a bruise like that, it was most-likely metal. Either was, that's our murder weapon. No stab wounds, gunshot wounds. There's actually no penetration, at all. I say he was bound up somewhere else from where we found him. But I've got worse news," Alexx said.

"No prints," Ryan said, crossing his arms.

"No prints," Alexx confirmed with a solemn nod.

"But there's good news," Eric spoke up. "I've got tire tracks leading away from the crime scene. We don't know if it's from our killer, but it's a start."

"Great, let's get 'em processed," Ryan said.

"I've already put 'em in. Calleigh's gonna call if it gets a hit," Eric said.

"Calleigh?" I thought you said she'd called in?" Ryan said.

"She did, but she came in, anyway," he explained, and at that moment, his phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at caller ID. "Speak of the devil," he said humorously, and answered it. He ended the call a moment later, then said to the others. "We got lucky. There was blue paint found in the tire tracks, underneath the rubber. There's a house about four blocks from the crime scene being painted. I passed it on my way there. Blue paint."

"All right, then. Let's go. See you, Alexx," Ryan said with a smile and a wave, and he followed Eric out the door.

They arrived at the house a half an hour later to find a man sitting out on the porch steps.

"Sir, you mind if we ask you a few questions?" Ryan asked, flashing his badge.

"What about?" he asked, squinting up at the two detectives. He was a large man, scruffy, his hair everywhere.

"Where were you this morning around six?" Eric asked.

"Why?" he asked.

"Answer the question, sir," Ryan stated.

"I was sleeping. Who gets up that early?" the man asked with a laugh.

"What's your name, sir?" asked Wolfe.

"James Carr," he said.

The two detectives looked at each other.

**Bwa ha ha ha! So...yes. Not as long as I would have liked it to be, but ok. Please review, all that jazz, gotta go, bie:0D**


	3. Chapter 3

**All right, I must be butter, cuz I'm on a roll...wow, that was cheesy. Well, now that I've got dinner out of the way, I'd just like to thank everyone for their reviews, and whether they were good or bad, constructive criticism is welcome. I don't own CSI Miami or its characters, so kiss it! Yes.**

**Chapter 3**

"Come on, Detective. Ten feet to go. Get up, Wolfe, you're pathetic," said Benningzer. He brought the pipe down onto Ryan's back again, listening to the heavy breathing, pain-filled cries each time the metal met the CSI's skin. "Ten feet, and you're home-free. You're running out of time, Detective Wolfe." He kicked him onto his back, kicking him again in his side. "When I get Duquesne in here, we'll have a lot more fun. More options, Wolfe."

At the last comment, Ryan lashed out. He kicked Benningzer as hard as he could in the leg, smiling bitterly from the pain he knew he'd caused, but his triumph was short-lived. Benningzer swung the pipe around to Ryan's side, hearing another crack, and a scream, and he kicked the same spot.

"You son of a bitch! God damn you!" he said weakly, but anger filled his voice.

Benningzer only laughed. "Doesn't look like you're getting out of here, anytime soon. Ten minutes left. You'll be seeing Calleigh soon, whether you escape, or not. I think she prefers you escape, or she won't be too happy with the way things turn out for the both of you. I'll even let you watch. Having my way with her, slitting her throat, you can listen to her cry. It'll be fun."

Ryan couldn't listen anymore. His blood was rushing through his veins at the speed of light, his heart pounded in his ears so loud he couldn't hear his own ragged breathing. He grabbed a hold of Benningzer's ankle and pulled hard, taking him to the concrete. Pain pierced through his back as he pulled Benningzer to his feet. He threw his fist as hard as he could, feeling pain erupt in his shoulder and side, knowing something was broken. Benningzer went to the ground quick, Ryan on top of him in moments. He punched him, kneed him in the side, then grabbed a hold of his shirt collar and heaved him to his feet, again. He hurled him into the cement wall, heard a crack, and saw that drugged look in Benningzer's eyes as they slowly closed, and he fell to the ground in a heap.

Ryan stumbled out of the room, into another, just as cold, and just as dark. He finally found a door, large and metallic. It was locked. A key code. He'd need a key code. "Son of a bitch," he breathed in disbelief. He went back into the other room and found the chains that had previously bound him. His hands were shaking violently as he picked them up, and he fumbled with them when he put them on Benningzer. His hands had barely any feeling left in them, at all, except for pins and needles. He shook Benningzer a little, trying to wake him up. Benningzer winced, shaking his head, and his eyes finally opened.

"What's the code for the door?" Ryan asked in a dangerous tone. He pulled the knife from Benningzer's sheath and held it to his throat. "What is it?!"

Benningzer only smiled, but said, "Listen," after a few seconds of dead silence.

Ryan was quiet as he did as he was told. And he heard what he was listening for. "Calleigh?" he said quietly, then turned back to Benningzer. "Where is she? What did you do to her?" he asked, pressing the knife closer as he listen to the faint screaming.

Benningzer laughed insanely as Ryan removed the knife and began pacing the room. His paced slowed and he stood against the wall as he was thrown into a coughing fit. "I could kill you," he said a moment after it passed, handling the knife carefully. He tasted blood again, more that before.

"You could, but you won't, and that's what makes you weak. And the worst part of it is that she's dieing because you can't simply walk over here and slide that knife through my skin until I tell you what you want to know," Benningzer taunted.

"I made it out of this room, Benningzer. Tell me that code. We had a dead," he said.

"But a deal with the devil never turns out like you planned," Benningzer countered.

And Ryan knew that without anyone telling him. Hew knew trusting the guy was as bad as putting your life in the hands of Steve Erkle during a bank robbery. Of course, he'd never trusted Benningzer in the first place. Then, he heard screaming again. He ran over to Benningzer and put his hand around the thick neck, adding pressure every second. "Tell...me...the code," he said through gritted teeth. He realized his vision was becoming slightly blurred, and the edges were already grayed out.

"Detective, you're gonna have to cut it out of me," Benningzer said. Was he serious?

Ryan backed up again, stumbling over his own feet, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself. He looked down and saw blood covering the entire right side of his shirt, a dark red spot on the underside of his arm where he was stabbed previously.

"Blood loss making you dizzy, Wolfe?" Benningzer asked, getting to his feet. With a moment of fidgeting, he released himself from the chains, and slowly made his way toward Ryan.

"Get away," Ryan said, stumbling backwards, dropping the knife. "Where's...where's Calleigh? What did you do to her?" asked Ryan as he squinted into the darkness, shaking his head occasionally. Benningzer set his hand on Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan jerked away, falling back into the wall. "Get away," Ryan repeated, breathing heavily. He felt drugged, dizzy, high. The room was sideways, he was nauseated, his arm was throbbing, and his body was on the verge of breaking down.

"Ryan, I don't have Calleigh. I couldn't find her, and that's why I have you. The woman you hear...she just ran out of luck. I'll keep you alive a little longer, Detective. We've only just begun to have fun," he said, seeing the look of confusion and anger on the CSI's face. He bent over and picked up his infamous pipe and swung it around.

Ryan hit the floor just in time, and scrambled to his feet, fleeting to the far side of the room, farther from freedom, but there was no where else to go. He couldn't see Benningzer, but felt him on top of him as he hit the floor. Something hard was pressed to his throat as pain spiked in his entire body. He could feel his skin bruising beneath the pipe against his throat, could feel the frail bones of his wind pipe being pushed back, close to snapping. His lungs burned with every fighting breath, and he was almost thankful when he lost consciousness.

**Ah ha ha! Yes, I'm evil with cliff hangers. I know it. Tell me what you think, all that. I'll try to update ASAP, I love you guys...not really, but it's the thought that counts, right? RIGHT?! Yeah, it is. I HEART CHUCK NORRIS!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for your reviews, and I'd like to ask a question. If vegetarians eat vegetables, what do humanitarians eat? Hehe. Yeah, I love that one. It's gonna be like two chapters before I ever get to what's going on with everyone else, and they'll be a big part later on, so just hang in there. I also changed the summary, I think I was scaring people off. Well, I don't own CSI Miami or the hotties, or short, fat and bald ones, no offense, so here's the next chapter, don't sue:0D**

**Chapter 4**

"Did you pick him up?" Calleigh asked Ryan and Eric as they walked into the lab.

"Yeah, why? What'd you find?" Delko asked.

"I went ahead and ran a check, and it turns out that our dead guy is, in fact, the real James Carr," Calleigh said.

"Ok, so what's our painter's deal? Did you match the sample we sent?" asked Ryan.

"That, I did. This guy's looking more suspicious by the second," she told them. "Using the guy's ID, the paint matches. We should talk to Horatio."

"Right," said Delko.

"First, though, our painter's name is Joseph Benningzer. I got it from his van's title. He must have known we would find his real identity, I don't know why he did this," Calleigh said.

"To stall us?" Eric asked.

"What for? We've got him, already-" Ryan said, but stopped suddenly.

"What?" Delko asked.

"Nothing," he said as he looked away. "I'm just not feeling well. I'm gonna get some air, I'll see you guys later," he told them, and walked out.

"What's going on with him?" Calleigh asked Eric.

"I don't know. He's Ryan. We'll never know," he joked lightly. "I'll talk to him later," he said, becoming serious.

"Ok. Say hi for me. And bye, I guess. Didn't really get around to that, did we?" she asked with a smile.

"I'll tell him. See ya," he said, and left, also.

Calleigh furrowed her eyebrows, then returned her attention to her work.

**Outside**

"Ryan! Ryan, wait up," Delko said as he jogged to catch up.

Ryan didn't stop, and didn't turn around.

"Ryan, what's your problem?" Eric asked when he reached his side.

"Nothing. I'm just not feeling well, I said that. All right?" he said, stopping and facing Delko. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, where are you going?" Eric asked him.

"Home. Just...just go back in. I'm just sick, that's all," Ryan said unconvincingly.

"You're going back to his house, aren't you?" Eric said, crossing his arms.

"No, I'm not-" Ryan stopped short when he saw Calleigh walking toward them.

When she reached them, she said, "I'm glad I caught you guys. I just got a call from Horatio. Joseph Benningzer's escaped."

"What? How?" Eric asked.

"The patrol officers were taking him to get booked and processed when their car went off the road. They're both dead, no sign of Benningzer. Horatio found blue paint on the side of the patrol car; he's thinking...well, he's sure it was run off the side by Benningzer's van. He's had help with this," Calleigh said.

"So what are we gonna do?" Ryan asked.

"You were gonna go to his place, anyways. What's your deal with this case, Wolfe?" Delko asked.

"I remembered seeing something outside his house. I wasn't sure if it was anything of importance, so I didn't want to drag you guys away from the case. It would be wasted time we don't have," Ryan explained.

"Well, what was it, then?" Eric asked him.

"A box. By his door. Seemed like it just arrived in the mail, had the stamps, and all. Thing was, it wasn't opened, and you'd think he would open it when he got it, right? So he might be stopping to pick it up, right now, and if I'm right, we need to get there before he does. _If_ I'm right," Ryan repeated.

"It's all we've got to go on," Eric pointed out.

"All right. You go ahead. I'll call Horatio and tell him what's going on, and I still have some evidence to go over. Be careful," Calleigh said, then headed back in.

**There ye haveth it. Ok? So back off! Yeah, and just to let you know, I wrote these first few chapters about two months ago, so it was before what happened on the season finale, so I'm not copying it. The prisoner escape thing. Sula bulungi!**


	5. Chapter 5

**All righty, then, wow, I'm really getting places with this story, it's the easiest one I've wrote like, ever. It just came to me, and it usually takes like a year to write a story like this. Chuck Norris, if you're reading this, I'm willing to pay for the wedding, just get me a nice ring. Hehe. Yeah, I'm your biggest stalker...I mean...fan. Your biggest fan...here's the next chap!**

**Chapter 5**

"Detective, you just don't listen, do you? I'll bet you'd like another go at me, wouldn't you?" Benningzer asked.

Ryan looked at the man through swollen eyes, barely hearing what he was saying. He heard a faint scraping, and realized Benningzer was dragging the pipe along the concrete floor. he was hanging by his hands, again, and he couldn't feel them at all, anymore. He couldn't decide if that was good or bad. Blood trickled down his skin, running down his side, soaking his jeans.

"How is this fun for you?" Ryan whispered, closing his eyes against the pain of just speaking.

"Oh, you know howit is. The thrill and rush of making a person scream. It's invigorating, you should try it, some time," Benningzer said.

"You're sick," he sid, his voice cracking slightly. He reopened his eyes to see Benningzer standing in front of him. he wanted to kick out at him, but knew it would only cause him more pain, and that was the one thing he'd had enough of.

"I'm sorry aobut your shirt. Kind of got torn up a bit yesterday. Promise to buy you a new one for your funeral," Benningzer said with a grin.

Ryan closed his eyes, again, realizing the hopelessness of the situation. How long had he been there, and the team still hadn't found him. No-one had found him. It was more than 24 hours, he knew that much, for sure. Would they find him in time? Would they find him at all? Of course they would. Things always turned out all right. Hopefully, they would take that turn, again, for his own sake.

"Mr. Wolfe. Don't be nodding off on me, now," Benningzer said.

"I'd...hardly call it...nodding off," Ryan said between labored breaths.

"Now, if I were to let you down, again, you promise to behave?" Benningzer asked, raising Ryan's chin with the pipe.

"Don't count on it," he said hoarsely.

Benningzer laughed and walked behind him. Ryan heard that familiar clinking, and braced himself for the fall. That didn't help much, he found himself on the floor, once again, unable to move.

"You know, if you would have just left it alone, you wouldn't be here, right now," Benningzer said.

Ryan didn't know what he was talking about, he still couldn't completely remember what had happened. "What...what are you talking about? You...you can't just..murder someone...and...and...expect to be let go." He rolled onto his back, biting back the pain it brought, and sat up. He was hating this guy, now, and he didn't hate too often. God, his sides hurt, he figured half his ribs were broken of popped out of place. He watched as Benningzer just smile, then walked out the door. Ryan pushed himself back until he met the wall, and he let his head rest against it. God, he was hurting all over. He was pretty sure there wasn't a piece of him that didn't. Hell, even his hair hurt. Soon, his eyelids drifted closed, and he became unconscious.

**Mercy Hospital**

"How's he doing, Horatio?" Alexx asked him as she walked into the waiting room.

"We don't know, yet. When I found him, he didn't look good...but he's tough, Alexx," Horatio said.

Alexx nodded, taking a seat beside Calleigh.

"God, I should've known something was wrong. I could've at least called him," Calleigh said, putting her head in her hands.

"He probably would've been unconscious, Calleigh. Don't beat yourself up, it's not your fault," Alexx said, setting a hand on her shoulder. "Like Horatio said, he's tough.

Horatio continued to pace the waiting room slowly.

"Alexx looked up a while later and spoke. "You're sure there was no sign of Ryan?"

"I'm sure. After the ambulance took Eric, I did a quick search of the premisis, and found nothing. Frank is going over the scene as we speak. He's come up with nothing, as of yet. We will find him," Horatio said, looking toward the waiting room doors, praying he would be right. With Ryan missing, and Eric wounded, it wouldn't bee easy to find Benningzer, but he knew that they would. He just hoped it would be in time.

**Man, what is up with these short chapters? They seemed longer when I was writing them, but that's notebook paper, so yeah. REVIEW, OR ELSE! Yeah, I'll send battery acid if you don't, I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! Just kidding...or am I? Yeah, I am. Bie:0D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Ok, I guess it won't be until next chapter. Then you'll see a little of the team, but later on, they hog up the lime light, so cool your jets, or I'll cancel your flight plans. If I owned CSI Miami and its characters, would I be sitting here like the supernerd I am, typing? YES! I'm a nerd and I am proud, and all you other nerds out there, we stand together! Ok...I'm scaring myself. Here you go...**

**Chapter 6**

How long had he been there? Two days? Three? He wondered if they would ever find him. If anyone would ever find him. He hadn't eaten or had a drink in nearly four days, and had a hard enough time trying to stay conscious, for fear of falling into a coma. Being starved and beaten everyday was taking its toll, and Ryan was afraid the next time he fell asleep, it would be the last time.

He stared at the crescent moon glowing through the window as he thought. His friends would find him, wouldn't they? They had to, they always found the victim. The victim. But this time, the victim was one of their own. This time, _he _was the victim. And that made it worse.

Ryan and Eric pulled up to the home of Joseph Benningzer and got out of their vehicle.

"Damn it," Ryan said quietly as they neared the house.

"What?" Eric asked.

"It's gone. The box, it's gone. He's been here. Or somebody has," Ryan stated as they reached the porch.

"Did you hear something?" Eric whispered.

Ryan shook his head no. A moment later, he heard shuffling of feet.

"That, I heard," he whispered back, and they both pulled their weapons. Eric slowly opened the door, surprised to find it unlocked. They entered the front room, finding it empty, but still heard footsteps in the next room.

"Miami-Dade Police, put your hands where I can see them!" Delko shouted as he entered the room, followed by Ryan. Benningzer was standing behind the bar counter as he raised one hand, holding a knife, his other still hidden.

"Nice to see you again, detectives," said Benningzer with a smile.

"Benningzer, put your hands up. Both of them," Ryan said, his gun trained on the man in front of him.

"Not going to jail, Wolfe. So why don't you two get out of here, now, and maybe you'll make it in one piece." Benningzer raised his other hand, which held the box previously placed on the porch. And it was _ticking_.

Ryan and Eric exchanged glances as they inched their way around opposite sides of the bar toward Benningzer.

"Joseph, put the box down slowly. Set the knife on the counter," said Delko.

"God, how did you guys become cops? No-going-to-jail. Get it, that time? Besides, I haven't properly introduced myself to Mess Duquesne. I have a man on his way to her place as we speak," Benningzer said.

Delko finally reached him and said, "Put them down, or I will shoot you."

Benningzer smirked and set the knife on the bar, then the package. Delko cuffed him, and they left the house.

"I'm gonna call bomb squad, you call Calleigh," Eric said, putting Benningzer in the back o the vehicle.

Ryan nodded, pulling out his phone. He dialed Calleigh's cell, listening to the ringing. After the fourth ring, she picked up.

"Ryan, what's up?" Calleigh asked.

"Oh, thank God. Calleigh, you need to lock all your doors, now. Check your windows and lock them, too, then call Horatio. Delko and I have got Benningzer, but he's claimed to have sent a friend of his to your place. Get your gun. I have to go, be careful. Ok?" he told her.

"Ok, Ryan. Thanks," she said.

"Bye."

"See you later, Ryan," Calleigh said, then he heard a click, and prayed that Benningzer was lying.

Ryan was pulled to his feet by the force of Benningzer's hand in his hair, and it wasn't helping his headache one bit. When in the hell was the nightmare going to end? He just wanted it all to be over. Six days. Six days, and nothing had happened, except that he'd found out he was crazy. He wasn't even completely sure it had been six days. He hadn't been able to think straight since he didn't know how long, but God, he just wanted the misery to end. Why was this happening? He wasn't always a man of God, but he believed, wasn't that enough? He never beat his girlfriends, he'd never drove drunk, he tried not to let down his friends. He was a good person in the scheme of things, wasn't he?

Ryan's hands were bound behind his back, and when he was thrown to the ground, there was nothing he could do to break the fall; all he could do was try to ignore the pain of his dislocated shoulder. He didn't know how he'd lived this long, with blood loss, infections, malnutrition. He figured he might have gangrene in his arm. If he ever got away, he prayed he wouldn't have to get it amputated. How in the hell would he work with one arm? Would he ever go back to work, if he got out? Everyone would treat him strangely, he knew that. Just like when he was shot in the eye, it would be the same. The doubt, insecurity, pity, curiosity of the other team members. And Eric. 'Is he even alive? God, they're probably having his funeral, right now. No, he's not dead, you don't know that. Jesus Christ, I'm losing my fucking mind!'

He was yanked back to his feet again, but lost his balance, and would have hit the floor again, but the wall was in his way, and it caught the side of his face.

"And Calleigh. Wolfe, you should've heard her scream. As I told you, invigorating, you'd have loved it. She begged me like the little slut bitch she is. Her blood poured over me like a shower. She was fierce, put up a hell of a fight, I'll give her that. But in the end, she was just like the rest of 'em," Benningzer said, holding Ryan to the wall by his throat.

Jesus, he didn't want to listen to this. 'He's lying. He's lying, he has to be lying. No, Delko's alive, Calleigh's safe at home in bed, sleeping. But he's capable of it. What if he got her? I'm gonna fucking kill him, I'm gonna kill him." Ryan was at the verge of blacking out, and could barely make out what was in front of him.

"You are so pathetic. You would have a hell of a time in prison. You would be my bitch by the second day. But I've got plenty of other bitches. Oh, but you would be great," he hissed, adding pressure to his victim's windpipe.

Ryan could no longer breath, he couldn't let this happen again. He wouldn't go back, not back there, anywhere else, but not there. He brought his knee up hard, and knew he'd hit the right spot when the hand released its grip and he slid to the floor, coughing. Within moments, his hands were free, and he was on Benningzer with his knee on the man's throat.

**Ah, sweet revenge. But always short-lived. Hehe, sorry about the spoiler...I would laugh again, but I feel sick today. I'm always siq. Oh yeah. So anyways, please review, or not, whatever, but it helps to tell me what you think of it, I update sooner. Oh, my favorite song's on, now, I'm gonna go dance, dance! Bie:0D**


	7. Chapter 7

**Ok, the team is finally in this chapter, ok? So, I don't own CSI Miami or its characters, yada blah, yada blah. Got it? Good. All right, then, well, um, so, ok, uh, yeah. hehe...Thanks for reviews, even though I don't have many, but I'm grateful for what I get...or am I? Anyways, as long as there is at least one single person out there reading this, I will write. Chapter seven is up.**

**Chapter 7**

It was raining. Ryan could hear it hitting the tin of the roof. It calmed his nerves slightly, but he still felt sick. He didn't want to do this, but at the same time, he did. And Benningzer was making him, there was no other way out of this, and he was already crazy, anyways. It wasn't like cutting into human flesh could make him worse. But he was doing this for Calleigh. He was doing this for Delko, and James Carr, and anyone else who deserved it. It was eating at him like crazy. And he was crazy. Oh, God, he couldn't do this. He put his head in his hands. What was he supposed to do? There was no help there, no-one to tell him what the right thing was. He wished H was there, he'd know what to do. No, he didn't wish he was there. He'd be in the same position as himself. Ryan snapped himself back to reality and he stared at the motionless body bound to the ceiling by his hands. Their roles were switched. It was his turn to feel that invigorating feeling Benningzer had so giddily bragged about. He handled the knife carefully as he slowly walked up to Benningzer's body. "God," he said quietly as he felt an insane feeling sweep over him. He held the knife to the bottom of Benningzer's temple and drew it down slowly, watching the blood trickle down the man's cheek. He saw his eyes open, saw the horror and pain in them, and he laughed. "Time to wake up."

Horatio sat silently beside Delko's bed as he tried to fight the exhaustion attempting to take over his mind and body. He looked up with tired eyes as the man on the bed stirred once more. He'd first came to two days ago, but he'd been half out of it the entire time. The doctors had lowered his dosage of morphine to get him back to the land of the living, and it seemed to be working.

"H?" came the quiet voice.

"How are you feeling, Eric?" Horatio asked, leaning forward.

"Still foggy, but it's better," he said.

"And the pain?"

"It's manageable. Have you found anything, yet?" he asked. Horatio had the look of regret in his eyes, as he asked the question, guilt, even, and now Eric was sorry he'd asked it.

"Not a trace. We know who did it, but that information is useless if we don't know where he's at, and our time is limited. I don't want to find Mr. Wolfe's body behind a grocery store, Eric. But everyone's putting in their best efforts. I've had to force Calleigh to go back to Natialia's twice," said Horatio.

"Why's she at Natalia's?" asked Eric.

"You don't remember," Horatio said, more as a statement than a question. "When you and Ryan found Joseph Benningzer, he threatened Calleigh. Ryan called her and told her about it, and she's been switching back and forth and back again between my house and Natalia's. Alexx had offered, also, but Calleigh declined. She didn't want to be in the way of Alexx's family business. Do you think she's saying something about the rest of us?" Horatio joked lightly. He was only trying to get the old Eric back. It wasn't working.

"It's my fault this happened," Delko said.

"Eric, this is not your fault, you hear me? You did what you could," Horatio said.

"But it wasn't enough," Eric told him, turning to face the window, watching the rain trickle down against the dark sky.

Eric walked up to Ryan as he said bye to Calleigh, then closed his phone.

"She said she's all right. She's gonna call Horatio," Ryan said.

Eric let out a sigh of relief, then said, "We'd better wait for bomb squad, then take Benningzer to the station." Ryan nodded in agreement, and they headed back towards the vehicle. They weren't ten feet from the hummer when a truck rounded the corner, going at least sixty. It cut through lawns, heading straight for them. Two seconds hadn't passed when it finally reached them, and Eric made a split second decision.

Ryan hit the ground hard, feeling the cement meet his skull. Pain erupted behind his eyes, but he tried to ignore it as he rushed back to his feet, swaying from the dizziness. But all he could do was watch as the truck sped away. "Oh my God," he said in shock. He stared at Eric's body for a moment before he was at his side. "Oh God," he said again, realizing how bad it really was. "Eric...Eric, look at me," Ryan said. Delko was starring at the sky, blood on his face, trickling from the side of his mouth, and he noticed a small pool forming beneath his friend's head. Eric's eyes were dazed, but Ryan could see pain in them, then recognition, and his eyes slowly shifted and found Ryan's. "God, Eric. Why'd you do that?" Ryan said in a pained voice. He shouldn't have done that. Eric saved his life. This couldn't be happening, he was dieing, he couldn't let him die. He didn't break eye contact when he reached for his radio and called for help, but Eric's eyes were unfocused again, his brow furrowed, and he began coughing, coughing up blood from his lungs, gasping for breath, fighting for air, for life.

"Wolfe..." Eric choked out, grabbing onto Ryan's shirt. "You don't...let him get...away..."

"Don't talk, Eric. Just relax, it's ok. It's ok, it's gonna be ok. You're gonna be ok," Ryan said reassuringly. He took off his jacket and gently lifted Eric's head, setting it under as a pillow.

Eric's grip was loosening on Ryan's shirt, loosening his grip on life.

"No, no, no. Eric! Eric, listen to me! Hang on, all right? Help's coming," Ryan said. He was afraid to touch Eric, he didn't know where he was hurting, but he couldn't let him lose consciousness. And that's when he became aware of the truck, again. But this time, it stopped, and Ryan pulled his gun, aiming it straight at the guy's head.

"Stop where you are!" Ryan shouted, but then saw that there were three men. All carrying. He glanced down at Delko, who was looking at him, then at the men, then back at Ryan, again. Ryan got to his feet and said again, "Stop where you are! I _will_ shoot!"

The driver raised his gun as the other two sprinted in opposite directions, but Ryan shot him before his arm raised half way. The guy on the left had disappeared completely, but the guy on the right was heading for the house. Ryan knew he couldn't leave Delko, but he knew the two were planning something. He kneeled down next to Eric again.

"You're gonna be ok, Eric. Just hang on, ok?" Ryan said. He didn't want to leave him. Eric had his hand on his gun, and Ryan knew what he wanted. "No, I'm not leaving you here like this."

"You...have to. Jus' go," Eric said hoarsely.

Ryan really didn't know what he was to do. He knew what he was supposed to do, but he didn't want them getting their hands on Eric. He knew they would kill him. So he did the only thing he could do.

"This is gonna hurt, but you have to trust me, ok? I have to get you out of here," Ryan said, receiving a slight nod. Ryan holstered his gun quickly, then slid his arms under Eric's and pulled him along the ground. Eric bit his lip, and Ryan knew he was in pain. "Just hold on. It'll be over soon. Hang on, Eric," Ryan said, trying to reassure Eric, not entirely sure that it was working. He finally had Eric between the house and the garage, and pulled him under the garage into the flood grounds. It was slightly damp, but Ryan was sure he'd be safe there. He took a moment to catch his breath, then pulled Eric's gun from its holster and put it in his hands. "If they do find you-"

"They'll...regret it," said Eric, breathing heavily. Ryan doubted Eric would even be able to pull the trigger. He pushed the thought away and pulled out his own flashlight and gave it to Eric.

"If the medics get here, or back up, whoever, flash this on and off. I'll be back, I promise," Ryan said. Eric nodded, so Ryan crept out of the flood area, gun drawn, and went around the back of the house, where he found one of the men. Ryan yelled from around the corner. "Police, drop your gun, now!" He was answered by bullets skimming the wall, flashing past his head. Ryan fired back, missing, and he felt a sharp pain on his neck. Only a graze. He shot around the corner again, catching the guy in the leg. He ran quickly to the form on the ground, pulling his cuffs. The man was screaming, but Ryan ignored it. He pulled him to his feet, putting the gun to his head. "Move," he told him, jerking him forward. They neared the front, so Ryan cuffed one hand, pulling the other behind his back, and cuffed it around the porch pillar.

'Two down, one to go,' Ryan thought. He was guessing the third was in the house, but he found no-one in his search. He left the house, expecting to find the man pointing a gun at him, but he saw nothing. He rounded the corner, once more, and what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

"Lower your weapon, Detective," the man said. It was Benningzer.

"You know I can't do that," Ryan said. He saw Eric sitting against the pillar outside of the flood area, nearly unconscious, blood still streaming steadily from his face and onto his shoulder from his neck. And Benningzer had a gun to his head.

"I will shoot him, detective. You're making me hesitate, and I don't like it, at all. You want to risk your friend's life?" Benningzer asked.

Ryan didn't want to make that choice. And he didn't have to. Ryan fell to the ground, unconscious.

And the third man stood over his body, gun in hand. "I guess I hit him too hard," he said.

"No," Benningzer replied, leaving Eric's side. "That was just fine."

**Ah ha! I am so evil. Ok, so it looks like I've got at least three readers, now, and thank you for your reviews, they're very much appreciated. Ok, then I'm gonna go eat some noodles, because that's just what I need, carbs! Bie:0D**


	8. Chapter 8

**IMPORTANT: All right, I didn't realize this before, but I didn't explain the previous problem completely. After Ryan tied up Benningzer, there was a reason he couldn't call out. Two reasons: Benningzer is a smart son of a bitch, and wouldn't carry a phone on him, and made sure Ryan's pockets were empty. Sorry for confusion, that was my fault, but thank you for pointing it out. And thank you Mandi96, LadyorTiger, Ebony Falcon, and Moose the Goose for your reviews. I think you guys are the only readers, but if I missed someone, say so, and I'll add ya! Or will I...? Yeah, I will...**

**Ok, so it seems that the story's going all right, so far, no death threats...yet. I'd like to keep it that way, please, and thank you. I don't own or care to own CSI Miami or its characters, because then I'd have to deal with the law suits I'd hold against people like me. So here's your story, Jerry.**

**Chapter 8**

Ryan had the pipe in his hands. Hid blood-drenched hands. With a blood-soaked pipe. And a blood-soaked body on the blood-soaked floor. He brought it down, once again, hearing a crack. Ryan felt sick. He felt crazy.

Sick.

Ryan ran to the corner, heaving, dry heaving, nothing to come up, heaving. The smell of blood lingered in the air, terror and fire ran through his veins, and he trudged back over to Benningzer.

"You son of a bitch! Bitch!" he shouted. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!" He kicked Benningzer in the side, knowing the man was already unconscious, possibly dead, but he did it, anyways, and then again, and once more. He walked tiredly to the other room, hopelessly, but filled with rage. Benningzer wasn't going to give him the access code. Well, if he wasn't getting out, then neither was Benningzer. "Fuck you," he whispered, swinging the pipe around hard with his one good arm. It smashed into the panel, sparks flying, plastic and metal shot out in all directions, and he swung again and again and again and continued until his shoulder and side and head were on fire. The pipe clanged to the ground. He walked back to his dungeon cell and stared out the barred window for God knows how long. His knees buckled. He hit the floor. And he was thankful for the dark.

Calleigh sat silently beside Eric's bed as he stared at the ceiling. God, he was blaming himself. Why? It wasn't his fault. But he was Eric. He hadn't been able to protect his partner, so he thought it was his fault.

"You know, you did save his life, Eric. He's alive, because of you," Calleigh said.

"He's missing because of me," Eric countered.

"I'm sure he'd rather be missing than dead, Eric," said Calleigh, feeling irritable, but trying to keep it out of her voice.

"I wouldn't be so sure. We don't even know he's alive. He could be in the Gulf, for all we know, Calleigh. Benningzer probably tortured him, had his fun, and did away with him. It's been eight days. What reason would Benningzer have for keeping Ryan alive that long?" Eric said.

"Don't give up on Ryan. If he wants to come home, he'll make it home. He needs to know that we won't give up on him, Eric. We have a lead," Calleigh said suddenly, causing Eric's head to jerk up painfully. "I didn't want to get your hopes up, in your state, Eric, but we've got a lead. I have a picture of a man, and I want you to look at it, ok?" Calleigh asked.

"Yeah," Delko said.

Calleigh pulled out a paper from her portfolio.

"I've seen him," Eric said, becoming angry. "Ryan had him cuffed to the porch, but Benningzer let him go. Son of a bitch. You have him in custody?"

"We have him in custody, yes. We suspected he was involved, but you've just confirmed it. He might know where Ryan's at. His uncle's been going crazy. He calls us every day, even after we call him every day. I talked to him. Ryan's lucky to have had someone like that growing up. I have to go, Eric," said Calleigh. "I'll come by later, ok? See you."

"Thanks, Cal. 'Night," Eric said, and closed his eyes.

**No, no cliffy tonight, so you won't have to deal with the wonderings. Sorry it was short though, it was only three pages long, but I've got a headache, and don't feel like putting two chappies in one, because it'll confuse me to death. And just to let you know, if I don't update for over two months, I'm dead. That probably won't happen, but if it does...yeah...ok, so I'm distorted tonight, I don't feel good. So leave me be! BI**


	9. Chapter 9

**I don't own this show or its characters, so kill the woman who served me the papers! Man, I'm so sick. I have to get an immunization shot tomorrow for cervical cancer, because my family's got a history with it, and I'm gonna try and donate blood before I get the shot, or they probably won't let me donate if I get the shot first. I'm a universal donor, peeps need my blood, man, who am I to deny? Here's for all the vampires out there.**

**Chapter 9**

Ryan's ears were ringing. The pounding of metal against metal had ceased, but he now heard a hollow sound, like a bowling ball rolling down a tunnel. He reluctantly opened his eyes to see the floor. He turned his head, realizing he could see, now. There was a pinkish sky visible through the barred window. 'What in the hell is going on?' he thought. He was going crazy. He was finally going crazy. How long had it taken? No food, no water, he was surprised it didn't happen sooner. Can you be surprised when you're crazy? Is that possible?

And soon enough, the bowling ball fell out of the end of the tunnel. It was quiet, but it didn't last long. He looked around as he rolled over onto his back and saw Calleigh and Horatio rushing toward him. And Natalia wasn't far behind. He must have been some kind of crazy, seeing them all like that. Why couldn't he die in peace, but be harassed by figments of his imagination?

Horatio looked at Calleigh as he kneeled down next to Ryan, then took in the sight before him. Horatio felt both relieved and shocked as he spoke. "Hang on, Ryan. Help is on the way."

Ryan tried to push him away with what strength he had left, which wasn't much. "Ge'way," he slurred. His mouth was dry and sticky, and he couldn't get the words out right, he felt drunk, like his was falling.

Horatio set a hand on Ryan's shoulder, afraid he might cause the CSI more pain than he was already in, but he had to let him know that they were really there.

Ryan looked confused-he felt confused. "You really...here?"

"Yes, Ryan. We're here. Paramedics are right outside, and we will be waiting for you at the hospital," Horatio said.

"Don't...lie to me," he whispered.

"Never," Horatio said quietly, keeping his emotions in check.

"Calleigh...he hurt her...he-"

"Calleigh's fine, Ryan, she's right here. Don't talk, now," Horatio said, concerned. He was obviously delusional, but that was to be expected in his state. He heard Calleigh behind him crying silently as she could, and he knew there was nothing he could do to comfort her. But he had to focus on Ryan, now, and keeping him alive. But he had hung on for ten days, and he had faith that he could hang on a little longer.

Ryan had a trace of a smile on his lips, but had sadness and pain apparent in his eyes as they slowly closed. He heard urgent voices, jumbled together, but then they all sounded the same. The last clear thought he had before unconsciousness took over was...where did the bowling ball go?

**Ouch, really short chapter. Sorry about that. But I think that it was an ok chapter, I liked it. They finally found him! Yay! Screw hopelessness, who says you can't go home? Bie! BI**


	10. Chapter 10

**Ok, remember when Eric looked at that picture Calleigh showed him? That guy gave up info on Benningzer, I completely forgot to throw that in, cuz I already know where the story's going, and I keep forgetting you guys aren't me, so sorry. I do that a lot when I write. Anyways. Wow, this story's really getting along better than I thought it would. I'm not in a courtroom, so that means I'm doing good...right? I don't own CSI Miami or its characters. Do I really need to say it again? Yes, and you'll be hearing it in every chapter! Bwa ha ha ha!**

**Chapter 10**

Ryan was awake again. He was in a cool room, a nice cool, not a biting cool. There was no pain, and that scared him. Was he dead? No. He heard beeping. He was in a hospital. The disinfectant smell should have given it away, but he was still out of it.

What in the hell was wrong with his hand? His writing hand. He couldn't write. He couldn't shoot a gun. And his shoulder. A dislocated shoulder, on the same god damned arm. He looked at it for a while. He figured it was a good thing. Benningzer had practically mangled his entire right arm. Dislocated shoulder, swollen wrist, and hand, he couldn't make his hand do what he wanted it to. He had the stab wound between his bicep and tricep. He prayed he would be able to use it again, but praying hadn't helped much in the past.

His eyes traveled the walls of the room, finally stopping when a face blocked his view. Natalia. She was sleeping in a recliner by the window in the corner, curled up on her side. She looked peaceful. Then he heard a whisper. He jerked himself up into a sitting position, startled. The fact that he could even move startled him.

"You're awake, I see," Calleigh stated, pulling up a chair. She glanced at his arm, which was in a sling, but tried not to think about it. His face was badly bruised, and it made her skin hurt.

"What's going on? Why am I here? I mean...how did I get here?" Ryan asked hoarsely.

Calleigh saw fear in his eyes, and it scared her. His voice was weak, his face pale and sweaty, despite the coolness of the room, and his eyes were dark, above sunken cheeks. In every sense of the word, he looked dead.

Ryan lain back down slowly, putting a hand over his eyes.

"Are you in pain?" she asked softly.

"No," he said, his voice still hoarse. He was surprised he didn't have a tube down his throat, but was thankful for its absence.

"Do you remember what happened?" Calleigh asked him hesitantly.

He let his hand fall to his side, and he stared at the ceiling. "Unfortunately." He turned to her and spoke again. "God, Calleigh, it's so good to see you again. And Natalia. I missed you guys; you have no idea how much. I didn't know if I would see you guys again."

"You're gonna be all right, Ryan. We're gonna help you through this," she said.

"How long has it been? Since you found me?" Ryan asked her.

"Three days," Calleigh said.

"How long...was I there?" Ryan asked.

She didn't talk for a long time. She looked at her hands, at the window, at Natalia. But she didn't look at him. Finally, she spoke. "Ten days, Ryan."

Ryan nodded, closing his eyes. Calleigh thought he was asleep, after a few moments, but then he was looking at her. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you for finding me."

Calleigh forced a smile, holding her emotions in the back of her mind, and she said, "I'm glad you're with us, again, Ryan."

His eyes were glassy, and he finally closed them, and kept them closed.

Horatio was waiting outside the room when Calleigh walked out.

"Calleigh, how is he doing?" Horatio asked.

"I'm surprised he was even coherent. The doctors said it was unlikely he was given food or water in the extent of his captivity-" she cut herself off. Captivity. They'd treated him like an animal, tortured him. She forced herself to continue. "He wasn't delirious, like I thought he would've been. He's tired."

"I'm sure he is," Horatio said with a smile. "And how are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Horatio. Thank you," Calleigh said. "I...I need some rest. I'll come by tomorrow night."

"I'll see you here," he told her, and she smiled and left. Horatio stared at the door for a moment before entering the room. Natalia was still asleep. She'd been by his side since they'd found him. Horatio took Calleigh's previous seat and looked at Ryan, who was now unconscious. "Ten days, Mr. Wolfe. I am sorry."

Ryan had been taken out of the ICU the previous day, after having been there for about a week, and now resided in recovery, which was equally distasteful. Everything was so bland, but bland was fine, it was normal. Normal. He needed normal. He needed to sleep. He needed to stop thinking, or sleep wasn't going to happen.

Ryan sighed and wished he could get up, walk around, do something. But that wouldn't do any good, not in his condition, he couldn't walk at all. Then who in the hell sent him to recovery?

**Well, I hope you all liked that. I just had a diet Pepsi, and I've typed up two chapters today, and I'm on a roll. Really, it's pretty squishy, too. Ok, then...bie! 8o**


	11. Chapter 11

**All riiiiight. Sorry it's been a while. Yeah. Two days is a while, ok, I'm a lonely person! So I went biking yesterday, and I pretty much have gone biking everyday since spring, and I woke up this morning and couldn't move my freaking ankle, and I think I did something to it when I rode my bike. It hurts like when I sprained it, and I had a similar injury on the same foot about two months ago, from biking. So I think I need to get it checked out, because it's the same spot every time. Anyways, I don't own CSI Miami or its characters, but if I did, Ryan would really turn up missing...only for a few days, I wouldn't hit him too hard...hehehe.**

**Chapter 11**

Ryan had finally begun physical therapy, although none of them had been able to convince him to see a shrink. He knew he had to before he could go back to work. He had to use a cane when he walked, and the doc said he'd have to for the next few weeks, but at least he could walk at all, and he was thankful he didn't need the sling anymore. It had been another week, but he still hadn't talked to any of them about what had happened, and thankfully, Horatio had only asked once. Ryan said that he didn't want to talk about it, and Horatio respected that, and Ryan was glad. He'd had to talk to Stetler, and Ryan gave him a brief statement, but refused to say anything else to the man. And Eric was ok. The ambulance had gotten there in time, and he was going to be fine. Broken ribs had limited his ability to do things, but when Ryan had talked to Eric, he'd been more worried about Ryan's state than his own.

And now Ryan was lying in his bed. His own bed. They'd released him that morning, but only on the condition that someone stayed with him. That someone was Natalia.

His back was still killing him, the welts from the pipe were still visible. He was surprised his back hadn't been broken, surprised he hadn't gotten pneumonia, surprised he was alive. He still wondered what condition Benningzer was in, but he hoped Benningzer was in as much pain as he was in.

He'd been having a hell of a time trying to sleep that night, just like with every night since they'd found him. Every time he'd be so close to sleep, Benningzer's face would be laughing at him, or he'd hear his voice in his ear. Every night he had an uneasy feeling that he was breaking in, that Natalia wasn't safe with him. But he was in a coma. He was in a coma, and Ryan had put him in that state, and was glad.

His henchmen were still out and about. At least on of them were. He opened his eyes and saw the bright red light of his clock. 2:30 AM. God, he just wanted to sleep. His meds weren't working, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat. He'd never get back to normal, going on like this. He'd lost close to 40 pounds in the past two and a half weeks since the incident. He had to get an entire new wardrobe, so his clothes would fit. He knew the others had noticed, but was grateful they hadn't said anything about it. His doctors said that if he couldn't get anything in himself by the end of the week, they would have to force feed him to keep his strength up. Natalia had given him a tea that he could keep in his stomach, and he had yet to thank her for that. He was weak, and he hated that feeling. He could hardly move without being in some sort of pain, and he still couldn't use his right hand. The doctors told him he had nerve damage. Hopefully temporary. So he went to PT three times a week, got frustrated, and punched something, making it worse. He couldn't even write his name. He was ready to get up when Natalia showed herself in the doorway.

"You're still awake," she said, pausing at the door a moment. She walked over slowly and sat beside him on the bed and ran her hand through his hair. "I'm sorry this happened to you, Ryan. You're a good person, it shouldn't have happened. I'm so sorry it took up so long," she said, her eyes shining. She studied the bruises on his face, his one eye finally opened, despite the swelling, and she realized she'd missed seeing him looking back at her like that, and really didn't want to think about what she would have done if they hadn't found him.

His hand slid over her other one and he smiled tiredly. "But you found me. The time it took doesn't matter. It's over, now, and that's all that matters to me." He was frustrated at his other hand, being unable to move his arm, at all. She must have realized this, because she now had a hold of his hands in hers, and she smiled. "You'll get it working again, Ryan. God put you here to serve and protect, and you've done a hell of a job. You saved Eric's life that day. Wouldn't you do it again, if you could go back?" she asked.

"You should ask him that question."

"Ryan-"

"Yes," he said.

"Then don't feel frustrated about it. You'll get through it, because you're Ryan Wolfe, and you can get through anything. Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you trust me?" Natalia asked.

"Of course," he said with confusion on his face.

"You can tell me what happened. I'm here to listen. I'm here for you, to help. It's an open option, and it always has been. You don't have to tell me, Ryan, but I'll be here. OK?" she said.

"Ok. Thank you," Ryan said sincerely.

She nodded and smiled.

He looked at her and realized she was right. He had to tell someone, keeping it inside was killing him. He had to tell her. "I woke up...in a cold room," he said suddenly.

Natalia looked surprised for a moment. "What?"

"Benningzer. He kept me in this cold room. One window, barred, but I could see the moon right through it. It was beautiful. It reminded me that...that there were still people who cared, not everyone out there was trying to kill someone else, there were genuine people like you guys, it reminded me that there were people looking for me. I wasn't alone all the time. He'd had my hands chained above my head a lot of the time, I hung in the air. My arms would go numb, my hands would be numb, but I could still feel the pain in them. He played tricks with my mind until I didn't know what to believe. One moment, Calleigh was there, dead, and Eric and...I thought I was going crazy, and maybe I did. He'd beat me. Cut me. God, I feel like I shouldn't be telling this to you, like I'm giving away a secret. He screwed me up. I know I'm not the same as I used to be, but you guys have helped me so much. Thank you. I want to forget everything that's happened, but I know that I can't and won't, and I know I'll have to testify against him if he ever wakes up, and I don't know if I could ever look at him again. What am I supposed to do?" Ryan asked her.

She set a hand on the side of his face. "You let us help you. We're all here for you, Horatio hardly left the building when you were missing, Calleigh was angry because she needed an escort, Alexx...Alexx was worried to death about you-" she stopped when Ryan snorted, and then she laughed. "That was a complete accident, no pun intended," she said. He was smiling. Oh, God, he was smiling. "Ryan?"

"Yeah," he said.

"It's great to see you smile again. It's been a while."

"Tell me about it," he said quietly.

She hesitated, then decided to speak. "We'll find the third party. We'll find him, and they'll all pay for what they did to you, I promise," Natalia said, squeezing his hand.

"I know. I know you will," he said.

"You'd better get some sleep. You want me to stay in here?" she asked.

He hesitated before answering, but finally said, "Would you?"

She smiled again, got up, and turned off the light. He felt her weight on his bed once again as she sat beside him, and closed his eyes as he felt her hand run along the side of his face.

**Ew, cheesy ending, I hate Mozzerella, so it's Cheddar. Sharp Cheddar. Wow, I'm having a terrible time with my dyslexia right now, it's taken me about an hour to type this freaking chapter. Seriously, I have to correct almost every word, because bottle turns out botlet, or something like that. YB! Hehehe! BI**


	12. Chapter 12

**Yeah, my foot's still killing me, and I'm still killing me. I've been trying to get these up as often as I can, but I've been dealing with a lot of problems, lately, and most are emotional, but a few have to do with my family, but I guess that can count as emotional, also. My best friend went and OD'd on her meds, so she's in Iowa City in the psych ward, but her ex emailed me and said she seemed ok when they talked, so yeah. I want to go visit her, but that's like 300 miles from where I live, so yeah. Again. Anyways, here's your chap, I don't own CSI Miami or its characters, andablada.**

**Chapter 12**

Alexx was doing the dishes when her doorbell rang. She dried her hands, then walked to the door and opened it. "Ryan!" she said with a smile. "Come in, honey, how are you feeling?" Alexx asked.

"Um, I've been a little out of it lately, but other than that..." he trailed off, forcing a smile. "Listen, could you do me a favor?"

"Anything, Ryan," she said.

"I have to see a psychiatrist, you know that, right?" he asked her as she closed the door.

"What's up, Ryan?" she asked in confusion.

He looked uncomfortable, averting his eyes, making her uncomfortable. "Um...I don't know anyone that I could see, and I wanted to talk to someone who gives a damn, not someone who writes it down to get paid. I'm wondering if you would know anyone," he said, then quickly added, "Not that I think you're crazy, I mean, you're in the medical field, and maybe you had a few acquaintances on the way?"

"I know a few. Let me get you their names and numbers, all right? Have a seat, for God's sake, you're not at boot camp, honey," she said, gesturing to the love seat in the den, then went up the stairs.

Ryan limped to the lazy chair and took a seat, leaning his cane on the night stand. He listened to the soft footsteps as his eyes roamed the room. Pictures of her kids covered the walls and entertainment center, the nightstand. He picked up a framed picture from the nightstand beside his chair. IT was old, maybe from ten years ago. Alexx had a baby on her lap, and a young child stood beside her. Her youngest must not have been born, yet. A man stood behind her, leaning down, seeming to place a kiss on her cheek. He was handsome enough, and the thought crossed his mind that he could never have a family like this. Alexx was the perfect woman, her children were lucky to have a mother like her, and for one strange moment, he felt jealousy, even resentment toward his own mother.

"Ryan?" Alexx asked.

Ryan jumped up from his seat, sending the frame crashing to the wood floor, glass scattering around their feet. "Oh, Alexx, I'm so sorry. I...I'm jumpy, I'm so sorry," he said, bending down to pick up the frame.

Alexx leaned over and placed a hand on each of his shoulders. "Get up, Ryan. Come on, honey, sit back on the chair, you're shaking. Don't worry about that, I'll clean it up."

He looked up at her for a second, then stood, holding the frame in his hands. He stared at it, looking lost.

"Sit in the chair, honey. It's all right, I'll take care of it," she told him, rubbing his back. He nodded slowly, finally taking his seat, but still stared at the broken frame. "Let me have the frame, Ryan, it's all right. I'll get a new one, don't worry about it."

He hesitated, unsure of what to do, but he finally came to his senses and handed her the frame. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Don't be sorry, Ryan, you didn't mean it, you hear? Now, I've got three psychiatrists for you. Did you come all this way for that?" she asked as she handed him a sheet of paper.

"No. I wanted to see you. I've missed you guys," Ryan said.

"Oh, Ryan, I should have come by. I've been preoccupied," she apologized. She pulled a chair from the kitchen and sat beside him. "So, you got your hand back, yet?" she asked him with a smile, attempting to change the subject.

"Not yet, and not for a while, obviously," he said, glancing back down at the glass. "I really should get this cleaned up, Alexx, it's-"

"Ryan, your OCD is taking over. You should get to a psychiatrist," Alexx said in concern.

"I will," he said, distracted by the mess.

"This week?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Ryan," she said. He looked up at her to see a stern look on her face.

"I...I'll see one, ok? This week. I'm not a nut case, Alexx. I can survive a few days without one. Besides, Natalia's at home, she talks to me. I sort of wish one of you guys had a secret degree in psychology," he said with a laugh, and she smiled at him.

"I may not have a degree in psychology, Ryan, but you can still talk to me. And don't let your OCD get the better of you, all right? I've seen it happen to people before. I can't imagine what you went through, Ryan, or what you're going through right now, but you could try and help me understand. Are you gonna be ok?" she asked.

OK? He'd been trapped in a room for ten days with a psychotic sadist. "I'll be ok," he said, managing a smile. "I'd better go, I've gotta stop by Horatio's and talk to him and Calleigh. Then Eric's next on my list."

"Oh, no," she said, smiling. "All right, honey. Don't be a stranger, ok? Take me out to dinner sometime," she said, then laughed. "Get outta here." Ryan stood up, carefully avoiding the glass shards. He grabbed his cane and left the den, leaving Alexx to follow him into the kitchen. Once they reached the door, Alexx wrapped her arms around him and said, "I'm glad you came by, Ryan. Thank you."

"Thank _you_," he said. "Listen, I've got physical therapy tomorrow, and I'll probably be wiped out the rest of the day. I'll try to come by Thursday. Is that ok?" Ryan asked.

"That's perfect. I'll see you then," she said. She didn't realize she was still clinging to him.

"Alexx, I need my body to walk out the door," he said with a smile.

"Oh, sorry, Ryan," she said, drawing back. "It's just good to see you. Those ten days were terrible for you, I'm so angry at what they did to you."

"Anger will only keep you awake at night, I know," he said. "Anyway...my meter's running. Still can't drive 'til I get the ok from my PT, been running the same taxi all over town. That guy's probably in love with me by now, from all the money he's got from me. I'm going broke," he joked lightly.

"You be careful, honey," she told him.

"I will. See ya, Alexx," he told her with a smile, then opened the door and left for his taxi.

**A ha, chapter 12 is complete and I've got a backache from this damned chair! I'm so happy, aren't you? smiles fake Hehehe! My crazy laugh. Bwa ha ha ha! My evil laugh.**

**BI**

**My annoyed 2nd personality.**


	13. Chapter 13

**I'm so bored right now I could go to my ex's house from two years ago and make up with him. I don't even know where he lives, but if I did, I would so go over there right now and make out with him. I haven't even had my first kiss, that was a joke. Really, I'm sixteen and haven't been kissed. Not that they haven't tried, god I had this stalker ex and he creeps me out so much, he used to call me every day and he follows me around at school, and we haven't gone out in over a year, and he's asked me back so many times, I think he might come after me with a gun if he knew where I lived. Live. Currently. Ok, then, I don't own CSI Miami or its characters, and I'm so bored I could kill and would laugh my eyeballs out.**

**Chapter 13**

An hour later, Ryan was back at home, a whiskey bottle in hand. He pulled his shirt off and lied on the couch, setting the cold bottle on the wrap around his torso. He pulled the remote off of the coffee table and turned the TV on. The news. He didn't feel like hearing about the world's problems. He didn't feel like dealing with his own problems. He took a drink. He took another drink. Another drink, the bottle was empty, and the news broadcast was over. The phone was ringing.

"Dammit," he whispered and set the bottle on the floor. His head was fuzzy and he felt sick. He sat up and picked the phone up from the coffee table and pressed the TALK button. "H'lo?" he slurred.

"Ryan, it's Calleigh. Were you napping? You sound groggy," she asked.

"No, I'm drunk," he said, and let out a laugh. "Y'ok?"

"I'm fine, Ryan. It's 11 AM and you're drunk?"

"What about it?" he said. "Listen, I'll send you a pos'card, I'm on vacation, all right?"

"Where's Natalia?"

"She's at work today. How about you go pick her up and we'll have a slumber party. Hell, go find Delko and H. The more the merrier."

"Ryan, I'm coming over," Calleigh said.

"Where a nice dress," he said, and hung up.

He got to his feet, heading toward the kitchen, bumping his knee on the coffee table on the way. He let out a grunt, chucking the phone at the wall as he fell to the floor. And he was laughing again. He lied on the kitchen floor, knee bleeding, side hurting like hell, laughing. He stared at the ceiling after the euphoria had passed, and he stared for a long time, then he finally sat up against the refrigerator. He looked down at his arm, examining the six inch scar on the inside of his arm, and he heard a knock at his door. He lowered his arm slowly and stared at the door. _Calleigh. _He didn't know if he could stand the way his knee looked, he didn't feeling like getting up at all. She'd come in if he didn't answer, she knew he was home. But he got up, anyways. He stumbled to the door and opened it.

All of the sudden he felt himself being pushed back by a large force, a large _person_. 'Henchman' was the first word that popped into his mind before he hit the ground. He swore at least three of his ribs rebroke, and he let out a pained grunt. When he looked up, he saw the glint of black metal-a gun. Ryan flipped the man off of him, ignoring the pain, just trying to stay alive. It sure as hell wasn't a fair fight. Once he got to his feet, he fell onto the coffee table from the dizziness. He _had_ to get drunk at 11 AM. _Drunk. _He reached for the empty whiskey bottle abandoned by the couch. He felt a hand on his belt, and he was pulled off the table. Damn, that guy had freakish muscles. Ryan swung the bottle around, striking the guy on the head; the bottle didn't break, but bounced off the skull. Nevertheless, the man backed off, holding his head, and Ryan took his chance and swung the bottle again, harder this time, sending shards of glass into the air, and the man to the ground.

Ryan saw the gun on the floor and kicked it away from the man and hoped Calleigh would get there soon. His knee finally gave way, and he collapsed.

**Yes, always the cliffie. Ryan's not completely out of the woods, but I assure you, the strings are getting thinner and harder to control, so he won't be my marionette for long. cries**

**I'm bored.**

**BI**


	14. Chapter 14

**So...hot...can't...breath! Seriously, it's at least 90 in here, and great news! My brother's out of jail! Well, I don't know if that's good news for you, but it is for me. Everyone in the family older than me has gone to jail at least once in their lives, I'm gonna try and break that tradition. It's a little hipocritical, well, a little, that I'm in love with law shows and everyone in my family is a convict. A ha. Well, don't you think that's a little hipocritical? Not from where I'm standing, Rick. I love that. Ok, then, I don't own CSI Miami or its characters, so here's chapter 14.**

**Chapter 14**

Calleigh knew something was wrong the moment she reached his floor, and it didn't take a CSI to see that; his door was wide open. She went for her gun, only touching her belt, being off duty. She peeked around the doorway as fear and nervousness gripped her, but she had a job to do. Her heard skipped a beat when she saw Ryan on the carpet, face down, she couldn't tell if he was awake or unconscious, alive or dead, but she saw that the other man appeared to be unconscious. Damn, Ryan had done a number on his head. She quickly pulled her cell from her pocket and dialed 911 before calling Horatio.

"Horatio, it's Calleigh," she said when he answered, and she finally decided to enter the room, but cautiously, and she kneeled beside Ryan's still form.

"Calleigh, what's wrong?" he asked, hearing the shakiness and unusual quietness in her voice.

"I'm at Ryan's, I've called for an ambulance and backup, but I thought you would want to know," she said, checking for a pulse on Ryan's wrist, sighing in relief when she felt a faint, erratic rhythm.

"You thought I'd want to know what, Calleigh? What's happened, are you all right?" Horatio asked.

"I'm fine, it's Ryan. It looks pretty bad, I'm thinking that Benningzer's other henchman found him. They're both in here unconscious, and I have no gun. If he wakes up, Horatio, he's three times my size-"

"I'm on my way, already, I should be there in five minutes. Hang on, ok? Stay calm, and try to wake Ryan up, check him for wounds. They're in the same room; do you have your cuffs?" Horatio asked.

"No, I'm didn't bring anything with me," she said.

"All right, don't worry about it. Just take care of Ryan. If the ambulance gets there before I do, call me and let me know which hospital they're taking him to, and I'll meet you there, ok? I'm gonna let you go, now."

"Ok, bye," she said quietly, and closed her phone, pocketing it. She turned her attention back to Ryan. "Ryan? Ryan, can you hear me?" She received no answer. She set her hand on his forehead and ran her hand back through his hair. He was burning up. She was afraid to move him, but she had to get him on his back and check for injuries.

"Cal?" she heard suddenly. It was Ryan. His voice was light and weak, his eyes still closed.

"Yeah, Ryan, it's me. How are you feeling?" she asked, leaving her hand in his hair.

"Hangover," he said quietly.

Calleigh tried to stifle a laugh, but it slipped out. "It's a little more that a hangover. You don't remember what happened?"

His eyes opened slowly, his vision blurred, but he could see a large blob of a body on the floor just a few feet away. "No," he answered, becoming confused. "How long have I been out?" he asked.

"No more than a half an hour," she replied.

Ryan rolled over onto his back, then tried to sit up, attempting to block out the pain as he did so. The gauze around his torso prevented him from moving much in that direction, so he set a hand on the coffee table for help, and soon he was sitting up, leaning his back against the couch.

Calleigh noticed he was holding his damaged arm, and he had multiple bruises on his face, new overlapping the old ones, sweat coated his skin.

"Are you in pain?" she asked, and he just looked at her. "_Where_ are you in pain?" she asked, rephrasing the question.

"Who's he?" Ryan asked, looking at the man on the ground.

"I'm thinking it's one of Benningzer's men. Answer my question," she said.

"Question?" he asked, confused again. He was squinting now, still not able to see anything clearly beyond the bridge of his nose. He couldn't even think without his thoughts jumbling together. He felt hot and tired, he just wanted to go back to how things were before he'd been kidnapped, before he started his drinking, before he felt alone, betrayed, and confused all the time. He wanted things normal, but he knew things wouldn't be normal for a long time, if it was ever normal, again.

"Ryan, where are you hurt?" Calleigh asked again, trying to hide her fear. "Ryan, can you hear me?"

"Yeah," he said, but sounded distant. His eyes were closing again, and Calleigh knew that wasn't a good thing.

"Ryan, you need to stay awake. The ambulance is almost here, but if you go to sleep now, you might not wake up," she said, taking his good hand. His eyes reopened and he tired to focus on her and ignore everything else, but it was hard.

"You're blurry," he whispered.

Calleigh's eyes watered as she avoided his gaze, but she took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. "Ryan, you need to hold on, ok? If you won't do it for yourself, then do it for me. Hang in there, all right?" she said, squeezing his hand. She was a little startled when he squeezed back, but she smiled. He was looking around the room, his gaze returning to the body every so often, but it finally landed on her.

"Footsteps. I hear footsteps," he said.

Calleigh turned to the doorway to see Horatio, slightly breathless, but still his cool self. "How is he, Calleigh?" he asked as he neared them.

"He's...conscious," she said, but that was it.

"H?" Ryan said quietly. His eyes had closed again.

"I'm here, Ryan," he said, kneeling by Calleigh.

Ryan didn't say anything more, just turned his head slightly. And it was quiet.

Calleigh heard more footsteps, and saw Horatio pull his gun as Ryan's eyes snapped open. She put her hand on Ryan's tense shoulder, trying to comfort him, and he looked at her.

It was EMS. Ryan closed his eyes, letting out a painful breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He was shaking from the tension, but he didn't notice, he just knew he was tired. He heard his name being called, but he couldn't find the strength to open his eyes.

Calleigh took Ryan's hand in hers and touched his cheek. His skin was still hot, he wasn't getting any better. "Ryan. Ryan, please open your eyes. Ryan," she said quietly, her eyes shining. His hand was limp, he seemed unconscious.

"Cal," he said quietly, and she barely heard it. She tightened her grip on his hand, and ran her hand through his hair. She felt weight on her shoulder.

"Calleigh. The paramedics will help him. He'll be all right," he said, helping her to her feet, and the medics rushed over.

She let Ryan's hand slip through her grip, and it fell to his side.

"It's all right. They'll take care of him. Ma'am?" he said, turning to one of the medics. "Ma'am, where are you taking him?"

"St. Jude's should have a spot open," she said, helping the others get Ryan onto the stretcher.

"Ok. Thank you," he said, and turned his attention back to Calleigh. "Come on. I'll drive."

She nodded, but remained silent as the medics carried Ryan into the hall. An officer walked into the room, followed by another larger one. "That him?" the larger one asked, nodding to the unconscious man, who was now on a stretcher, also.

"That's him," Horatio said, and they escorted EMS to the ambulance. "OK?" he said to Calleigh.

"Ok," she breathed.

He set a hand on her back and led her out of the room.

**Yeah, I know I'm terrible, tell me about it, and REVIEW please! Thank you for reading, and at the risk of sounding like Arnold Schwartzenburgenslaughterdurgen, I'll be back!**

**BI**


	15. Chapter 15

**Strummin' my pain with his fingers, killing my life with his words, killing me softly with his song, killing me softly with his song, telling my whole life with his words killing me softly, with his song. I love Lauryn, she's freaking awesome. Anyways, this chapter is slightly longer than the others, so I hope you like it, and I don't own CSI Miami, or its characters, and if I did, they'd probably be dead because I forgot to feed them. Well, if Ryan can go that long without food, so can the rest of them...**

**Chapter 15**

Ryan was slowly becoming aware of things, but his head still wasn't clear. It wasn't because of drugs-he was in pain. He opened his eyes to a dark room, not completely dark, because of a lamp in the corner. Breathing. He could hear breathing near him, and it wasn't his own. His own breathing became labored as he tried not to panic, and he swallowed hard.

"Ryan?" came a voice, a sudden voice from the dark.

Ryan shot up, flying from the bed, wires and tubes torn from his chest and arms, and he stumbled back against the was as his knee gave out on him, pain flaring in his sides and chest.

The man at the other end of the room was moving, he was coming toward him, Benningzer. Benningzer. No, Benningzer was still in ICU at Mercy General, he was under maximum security, this wasn't Benningzer, it couldn't be.

"Eric," he said in relief when he saw light on the man's face. He felt startled for another moment, by his own voice. He sounded weak, and his throat was sore.

"I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just spoken out. Are you all right?" Eric asked.

The monitor was beeping incessantly, but Ryan chose to ignore it, and figured the doctors would rush in soon enough. "I don't know," he said as Eric helped him back to his bed. And he wasn't all too thrilled when he realized he was wearing an open-back gown. He pulled the covers around him and lied back against his pillow, closing his eyes.

And then came the doctor.

"He's fine," Eric said, and Ryan looked up at the doctor through glassy eyes.

"I'm the doctor," he said gruffly. "What happened?" he asked Ryan.

"I just...I was startled a little, but I'm all right," he lied.

The doctor had his pen light out and rudely flashed it into Ryan's eyes.

"Your pupils are reacting fine. You should leave," he said, turning back to Eric. "He needs his rest."

"No," Ryan blurted, then composed himself. "I...don't want to be alone right now. Can he stay? Just for a few more minutes. Please," he said quietly.

The doctor looked at him sternly, but finally sighed. "All right. Ten minutes, but then vamoose. Got it?" he asked Eric.

"Got it," Eric replied, and the doctor nodded, and hooked Ryan back up to the machines, then left them in silence. Eric looked around the room awkwardly, then finally spoke out. "I haven't had much of a chance to talk to you. I should have came by more often. I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't apologize," he said quietly. He stared up at the ceiling. "You saved my life, Eric. You don't owe me anything, and...I never thanked you, did I? But thank you. I wouldn't be here..." He looked at Eric, who returned his gaze. He was about to speak again, but Eric took the pause as a go ahead.

"You spent ten days in that hell hole for me. That's more than I ever did," Eric said.

"We'll call it even," Ryan said tiredly. "Deal?"

"Deal," said Eric, but he knew it wasn't close to even. He knew he owed Ryan his life, but he knew Ryan would deny it.

"That entire time I was in there..." he said after a long while. "That entire time...I didn't know what to think, what to do. I didn't know if you'd made it, if Calleigh was alive...I was ready to die when you guys found me. But I thought, 'If this bastard's gonna die so I'll rot in here, then so be it. As long as he's dead.' It felt like a horror movie. I had the pipe, and I nearly beat him to death with it, and would have if I'd had the strength. But I was so out of it, so I busted the panel, so he wasn't going anywhere. I'm just as bad as he is, you know? You know what the scary thing was? Every time I swung that pipe and heard that crack under his skin, as sick as it made me, I was _glad_ he was suffering. He'd put me through so much of it...I was just glad," he said hoarsely, and it was quiet again. It was then that he realized his face was wet, and he wiped the tears from his cheeks. "He said I was pathetic. He was right," Ryan whispered.

"Hey," Eric said sternly. "Nothing that psycho said or did was right. You're nowhere _near_ pathetic. Stop abusing yourself."

Ryan sighed again. "Thank you," he said quietly, then decided to change the subject. "What time is it?"

"Seven PM. Everyone's worried about you, I should go tell them you're awake. H's been wanting to see you, everyone has. We've been taking turns sitting in, H's been interrogating Garrison," Eric said.

"The henchman," Ryan stated.

"The henchman," Eric confirmed.

Ryan lifted his good hand to rub his temple, trying to ease his headache, and it worked, slightly.

"You hurting?"

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Your meds are probably wearing off. They couldn't give you much...'cause the, uh..."

"Eric, I was drinking, I know. I'm not gonna be offended. I've just been having a hard time staying in control, I guess. I'm sorry," Ryan said.

"What for?"

"I've caused you guys so much trouble, I should be thankful I'm alive."

"Ryan, you're not a burden to any of us. You're...you're a great friend of mine, Ryan, and...I'm here to help you, so is everyone else. Ryan, you had to do to stay alive, and you succeeded. I don't know many people who could have survived what you went through. I'm really sorry that it took us so long to find you. It shouldn't have taken us so long, I just think that if I wouldn't had my guard up a little more-"

"Listen, Eric. _You_ pushed _me_ out of the way of the truck. But if this is anyone's fault, you can take a ride to Mercy General and search the ICU," Ryan whispered, both from tiredness and pain.

"Ok. Ok, fair enough. I'll go get Dr. Caligari for you. Are you up to seein' H?" Eric asked, getting to his feet.

Ryan hesitated for a second, but made the decision. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll talk to him."

"All right. I'll come by again later, all right?" Eric said.

"Ok. Thanks, Eric," Ryan said.

"It's what friends are for. Night."

"Night," he said back.

Ryan didn't see Eric leave. He knew he must have been awake, because he was aware of the fact that Eric was gone, but he had a strange feeling about him, he didn't know what was happening. It seemed he'd only closed his eyes a few moments, but when he opened them, Horatio was sitting in the corner by the lamp, reading a file. He didn't say anything, he was too tired. He must've been out for a while, but not long enough to take away the fatigue. He just looked around the room until H realized he was awake, which didn't take long.

"Ryan. How are you feeling?" Horatio asked the CSI, getting to his feet.

"The usual," he said quietly, his feeble attempt at a joke. He really didn't want to talk to anyone, now. He just wanted to be left alone. He expected Horatio to say something, but he just stood there, so Ryan spoke again. "Eric said that you wanted to talk to me."

"I do," Horatio said. "I have to take your official statement. But I'll wait until you're feeling up to it."

"What about Stetler?" Ryan asked.

"Don't worry about him. I'll take care of it," Horatio told him. "But that's not what I wanted to talk about."

"What, then?" Ryan asked, confused.

"Alexx said you'd agreed to see a psychiatrist soon. Is that correct?" Horatio questioned.

"Yeah, what about it?" Ryan asked him.

"Whoever you choose will most-likely put you on medication, Ryan. Anti-psychotics...antidepressants. Which means that the commissioner won't want you back to work for some time. I've talked to them about it, and I've got you paid leave until you're ready to come back, or until they let you come back," said Horatio.

"Thank you. I'm starting to wear that word out," Ryan said. He thought about carrying around a radio to wear out the awkward silences. The light in the corner of the room began to flicker, and his eyes went to it. His breathing quickened as he thought about the room, the moon, the only thing that gave him hope, the glimpse of freedom that kept him alive. And the light went out. Ryan's fingers went numb, his legs felt like Jell-o, and he was shaking. He wasn't breathing, he couldn't breathe, why couldn't he breathe? He was hot and cold, he couldn't get air into his lungs, he was suffocating. He reached his hand out, grabbing the side rail to his bed. He couldn't move his other hand, he was trying to turn on the bedside lamp, but his goddamned hand wouldn't move. He was dizzy, everything was dark, he couldn't tell if he was still conscious or not, but he heard Horatio rustling around...did he? Or was he hallucinating? No, he had to be awake to hallucinate, so either way, he was awake. He heard his heart beat in his ears, loud, he could hear the alarm going off on the machines again, where was the nurse? He couldn't breath, God, he couldn't die like this after everything he'd gone through. He wanted to see Calleigh, he had to hold on.

"Ryan?" he heard. "Ryan, say something."

Ryan tried to speak, to make a sound, but nothing came out of his mouth. His hand was hurting from gripping the rail, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he passed out. He felt a hand on his useless arm, and then heard a click. And there was light, beautiful light, but then he closed his eyes, going back into the dark. He had hope, but it came too late.

Horatio saw the look of terror on Ryan's face as he turned on the light, his skin glistened around wide eyes, his lips trembled, and he knew something was wrong, possibly everything. He watched the detective's eyelids droop, and finally covered fear-stricken eyes. The man's skin was cold to the touch, despite the moisture covering it, and he ran his hand through his red hair. He grabbed the controller hooked to the bed and called for a nurse. It was going to be a long night.

**Bwa ha ha ha! Please review and tell me how evil I am, and what a terrible writer I am. And by the way, that thing about Dr. Caligari, he's not really Ryan's doctor, Eric was making a joke. It's from a German-written book, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, he hypnotizes his patients to kill for him...ok, so anyways...I love cliffies.**

**BI**


	16. Chapter 16

**Does anyone know who the Bohseonkelz are? No? Fine, then, missen inn die fresse? No? Fine, then, I'm really done, now, I'll leave you to read...I don't own CSI Miami or its characters, so yeah. Eat my dust, dude.**

**Chapter 16**

Calleigh stood as Horatio entered the waiting room. "What's going on?" she asked as he approached her.

"The lamp light failed, Ryan had a panic attack," Horatio said tiredly. "He's unconscious."

"A panic attack?" she repeated.

Horatio nodded. "His respirations ceased."

"Well, what are we gonna do? The PC won't let him back on duty with a psychiatric problem. Are we losing him, Horatio?" Calleigh asked quietly.

"No. No, I'm not going to let that happen. He knows we're here for him," Horatio told her, and he hoped he was right. "Where are the others?" Horatio asked.

"Um, Natalia's in the restroom, Alexx had to go check on her kids. Eric got called in to help Tripp," Calleigh explained.

Horatio sighed. "I should go help. I'll see you tomorrow, Calleigh."

"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked.

"You should go home and get some rest," he said as Natalia entered the room. "And so should you."

"I'd like to stay here with Ryan," Calleigh said.

"All right. Miss Boa Vista, are you staying?" Horatio asked.

Natalia looked unsure, but Horatio spoke up. "I think he would understand if you took a break. I'll drop you off," he offered.

She hesitated, but finally nodded, promising to herself she would be back in the morning. "Thank you." She turned to Calleigh and said, "Good night, Calleigh."

"Night," she said back, and added, "I'll call you if something happens."

"All right. Good night, Calleigh," Horatio said, then led Natalia outside.

Calleigh let out a stressful breath and sat wearily on the chair, putting her face in her hands. Soon she leaned back, crossing her legs, and tried to get some sleep. It might have been easier if she wasn't so uncomfortable, and the fact that her friend had been mentally abused for ten days by a psychotic, sadistic maniac didn't help.

He felt like he was floating. There was a breeze on his face, and then wet drops on his skin. It was raining? He was inside, though, wasn't he? He opened his eyes, and saw tall grass surrounding him. Blue and green grass. And a beautiful navy blue sky above him, bright stars in the vast blanket of space. The rain was soaking through his clothes, drenching his hair, and he decided to get up. He had no clue where he was, but he felt peaceful, like no-one would touch him. The rain was warm on his skin. He was on his feet, now, and he saw nothing but plains of blue and green grass. He turned the other way, and saw a tree. A tree _house_, with a tire hanging from a branch. It was dark, but the moon illuminated the land enough for him to see. He heard thunder, now, and the sky lit up for a second, and it was dark, again. Dark. He turned back to the tree house and saw something more in it. He was startled at first, but curiosity took over, and he began walking toward it. The grass caressed his hands, it seemed alive, and he glanced down at it as it swayed from the light wind. He finally reached the tree house, and looked at the makeshift ladder hanging from the hold in the bottom of the house. He couldn't climb that, not with his hand like that. He looked at his hand, contorted, his wrist still that purple hue and slightly swelled. He lowered it and looked away. He faced the ladder again, and set a hand on a wrung, his good hand, and one foot on the first one. He pulled himself up, and both feet lifted from the ground, and he was swinging slightly from the light wind. The rain no longer touched him, but he was still wet, and the rope was slick, but he made it up another wrung, then a third, and soon he was finally in the house. He felt worn out, hot, and his back felt like someone had taken a hammer to it, but he had done it. He was in, and he'd done it by himself. There was a window out in the side of the tree house, but no glass, just a window, and he dragged himself over to it. It was even more beautiful from an aerial view, he could see farther, and although he saw the same thing, there was more, going out for miles. He heard something behind him, and he turned to see himself. But it wasn't himself. It was him before he'd been abducted. Normal, healthy...in control.

"You messed up," he said.

Ryan was confused, he didn't know what he was talking about. "What do you mean?" Ryan asked.

"They need you back! You need to get yourself together, or you'll be screwed for life. You made it out of that hell hole alive, so start using that as a sign. You're here for a reason, and you need to find out what that reason is. And you can't do that if you're dead. Look at me. And look at yourself. You see us, and you figure out what's wrong. You need time to recover, take it, and use it," Normal Ryan said.

Ryan was about to ask what he was supposed to do, but everything began to fade. He reached out, but grabbed nothing, it vanished, and nothing he could do could stop it. He didn't want to leave, he couldn't go back to the pain, to suffering every second of every goddamned day. Not again.

He jolted upward, breathing heavily, his lungs burning, head pounding, sweat was running down his face, but everything was dark. The room wasn't dark, he just couldn't see. Why couldn't he see. Black began to turn gray, then forms came into focus. The doctor. Doctor...what was his name? He had paddles in his hands, defibulator paddles. What in the hell had just happened? The doctor set down the paddles and was talking to him, but Ryan couldn't hear anything. It was fuzzy again, he was losing his grip, slipping, slipping away. He blinked a few times, but it wasn't any help. It was dark again, and he was tired, damn, this had to quit happening or he really was going to lose it, he couldn't live his life in reverie. Hands were on him, his breathing slowed, he felt exhausted. He was lying down again, and everything was heavy. His head was heavy, his feet were heavy, his hands, his entirety. Something was placed over his nose and mouth, and he was light-headed, but still heavy. That didn't make a damned bit of sense. He was just tired, he would worry about it later. Later...

"Mr. Wolfe?"

A voice. They were trying to wake him up. Why were they trying to wake him up, couldn't they see he was tired? It must be important. He forced his eyes open to see that doctor. Hell, he couldn't remember the damned doctor's name.

"Mr. Wolfe, we had a close call. Do you remember what happened?" his doctor asked.

Ryan decided to speak. He knew his throat wouldn't like him very much for it, but he did it, anyways. "Am...am I dead?" he asked hoarsely.

The doctor laughed. What in the hell was so funny? "No, son, you're not dead. You did go into cardiac arrest, however, and your heart stopped for a few minutes. Do you remember where you're at?"

"Hospital. I don't know your name," Ryan said, answering the next question before it was asked. "I want to see Calleigh. Calleigh Duquesne, is she here?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, she's waiting outside. I'll let her in."

"Thank you," Ryan said quietly. The lights were on. The room's lights. He remembered the paralyzing fear he felt before, the helplessness. He didn't want to feel that again, ever.

"Hey, Ryan. It's good to see you awake," Calleigh said as she entered the room.

"It's good to see," Ryan said with a smile. God, he'd missed her. She took her seat in a chair beside his bed, and smiled at him.

"What is it?" he asked her, feeling wary.

"You like rodeo?" she asked.

"What?"

"Rodeo. You know, bulls, horses, people getting trampled for the sake of pride."

"Yeah, I like rodeo. Why?" he wondered. He felt strange, things were happening fast, _it_ was strange.

"Well, my dad got tickets to the Tampa Bay Tarpon Rodeo. It's in about two months, don't know why he got 'em so early, or how, for that matter, but he wants me to go with a special someone, but I don't have a special someone, and to tell you the truth, I don't want one. Do you want to go?" she asked him.

"Ok," he said.

"I mean, it's not that you're not special, but you know what I meant?"

"Yeah, Cal, I got it," he said with a smile. "So two months, then."

She giggled, then spoke. "Yes, Ryan. It wasn't me, he did it."

"Ok. Natalia didn't want to go?" Ryan asked.

"I didn't ask her. I actually asked Alexx, but she told me about a certain someone who loves horses," she said with a grin.

"I don't _love_ horses-"

"Oh, shut up, Horse Boy. You love them, and you know it. So, I'll see you in two months," she said with a laugh.

"I'll try to stay out of here in the mean time," he joked.

And there was that silence. Ryan spoke quietly. "Thank you, Calleigh. It really means a lot to me that you're here."

"I know, Ryan. There's no other place I'd rather be right now," she said, and she took his hand, and a tear escaped. "I won't ask how you're feeling, but I need to know something," she said with a smile. "Great, I'm crying. Bet you just love me now," she said, wiping at her tears.

"Calleigh. It's nothing to be ashamed of," he said, but she didn't look assured. "You know I cried," he said, hoping this wouldn't come back on him.

"You cried? What do you mean?"

"I told Eric...I told him about something that happened when...Benningzer...when I was in that place. I cried, it was the first time in God knows how long. But I felt better," he said. God, that was a lie. But it was a lie for her. "I don't mind if you cry, Cal, I don't think any less of you. You know that, right?" Ryan said. "That could never happen."

She was crying still, sobbing, but she was still beautiful. His heart fell apart with every tear that fell. Why was she crying for him? That wasn't right. His hand touched her cheek, wiping a long tear from her skin, and she looked at him. She wasn't crying anymore, but her eyes were still red.

"Why are you crying, Cal?" he asked her.

She looked confused when the question was asked, and gave him a look, as though the answer was obvious. "He almost killed you, Ryan. Twice. Your heart stopped not even an hour ago, and I was scared to death. I know that you're going through hell right now, but so am I. I've stood by and watched you disintegrate, and now you're a shell of the Ryan I knew. You're different, but you're still you. You won't talk to me, so I can't help you, but I have to help you, so what am I supposed to do?" she said, tears falling again. His hand was still on her cheek, warm, soft. She looked at him and felt a compulsion to reach out for him. He was looking at her, his eyes were glassy, and a tear rolled down his cheek. She found herself leaning toward him, and their lips touched and she thought she might die. She closed her eyes, she felt like she was floating, as he kissed her.

**Awww...yeah, I'm going soft, I'm sorry, I just had to put a moment in, and there'll be a few more, just to let you know. But I'm not done whumping, don't worry. Bwa ha ha ha!**

**BI**


	17. Chapter 17

**All righty, then. My crew has left me all alone, and school starts in three weeks, so I'm gonna try and have this story done by then. So I'd better hurry. Anyways, hope you like this chapter, I don't own CSI Miami or its character, so here you go!**

**Chapter 17**

"What's the code to the door?" Ryan asked the man. Benningzer. Benningzer was chained up, sitting on the floor in an awkward position. He laughed. Ryan pressed the knife to the thick neck, wanting so bad to jerk on it wanting so bad to end his mother fucking life. "What is it?"

"Listen," Benningzer said. This had happened before. When? He didn't remember this, was this real? It couldn't be real, it couldn't be happening again, God, not again.

He heard screaming.

"Cal. No," he said, turning back to Benningzer. "You bitch. You-God damn you. Where is she, what have you don't to her?"

"She's dieing. And you can't do a damned thing about it," Benningzer said, smiling.

So Ryan jerked the knife, sending blood spraying everywhere, he could taste it on his lips. He heard a gurgling sound as blood poured from Benningzer's mouth and throat.

Calleigh. He had to find her. But he couldn't leave, and she was dieing, she was dieing because of him.

"Ryan?" he heard. Behind him. He spun around to see Calleigh lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. Something wasn't right. _This_ wasn't right. He kneeled down beside her, trying to stay in control.

"Cal?" he choked out. "Cal, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he cried. He took her hand and brushed a stray lock of hair from her pale face.

"Ryan..." she said, and her eyes closed slowly.

"Calleigh, no, stay with me. Calleigh, please!" he said, but he knew it was useless, he knew she was gone. He pulled her close to him, resting her head on his chest as he rocked her gently, and everything began to fade. He shut his eyes, and realized he couldn't move. Everything was foggy. Something was holding him down, that's why he couldn't move, why were they holding him down? He heard screaming, oh God, Calleigh, he'd let her die. He was fighting, hands held his arms, someone was still screaming. His throat ached, his head spun, and it dawned on him; it was his voice, he was screaming. But he had a right to, they wouldn't leave him the hell alone!

"Ryan," came that voice again. No, she was dead, he'd just watched her die. His eyes were open, and had been for sometime, but he wasn't comprehending his surroundings, what was happening? He was quiet as a soft hand touched his neck, and another in his hair. Her voice again. He stopped moving as he looked at her, alive, healthy. But she was crying.

"Ryan, it's ok. You're in the hospital," she said, trying to calm him. His once empty eyes held a flicker of familiarity, and she was a little surprised when he threw his arms around her, hiding his face in her neck. Her tears ceased, but his continued as she heard quiet sobs, muffled from her shirt fabric. She held him for a few minutes, rubbing his back as he calmed, and nurses and doctors eventually filtered out. She felt warm breathing on her neck, and felt better knowing he was with her again. She'd been sitting beside him after he'd fell asleep last, and he'd became restless, and shot up. It looked like he was trying to get away, screaming, kicking, he'd scared her.

He said something after a while, but it was muffled, and she couldn't make it out. He obviously realized that. He tilted his face toward her more and tried again. "I thought he'd killed you," he whispered, eyes still closed. A tear ran down his face, to her shirt, but he didn't care if she saw him cry, he only cared about her at the moment.

"I'm alive and well. Besides, I'd kick his ass if I ever saw him come near either of us again. It's ok, Ryan, you gave him what he deserved, and I have a feeling he won't be doing anything like this again."

Silence fell once again, and, thinking he'd fallen asleep, was about to let him go when he spoke. "There was a woman," he said so quietly, she barely caught it.

"Where?" she asked softly. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, but he finally answered.

"Benningzer had her. He told me it was you, when...when she was screaming, but...but then he said that she...was another woman, and had run out of luck," he said, pulling away suddenly. His eyelids were heavy as he stared at the side of his bed, where she sat.

"There was no woman in there, Ryan. You and Benningzer were the only ones we found," she said.

"I know I heard her, though. I mean, yeah, I hallucinated and was delusional, but that was real. I've got scars to prove it, and so dos Benningzer," Ryan said.

"Scars? What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"Have you seen my chest and back lately?" he asked her. "I mean, God, I...I'm glad I came out alive, but it looks and feels like hell."

"No. No, I haven't, Ryan, but when we found you, I did, and I didn't think you would make it, that's how bad it looked. I paid attention, Ryan, so don't get snappy with me," she said.

Ryan leaned forward, keeping his attention on the blankets. "I'm sorry, Calleigh, I didn't mean that," he said, then decided to look at her. "But do you know how hard it is to live everyday, pretending none of this ever happened, when I remember every second of every day, every beating, and every _hit_? Every word, Calleigh? I can't go to sleep at night without seeing Benningzer's face laughing, without feeling helpless. He may be in the ICU, but he's also in here, and he's driving me fucking crazy," he said, motioning to his head. "He's here controlling my life, while I can't even control my god damned hand."

Her eyes involuntarily went to his bum hand, still bruised, and forever scarred, his arm, his arm that couldn't even function. She looked away from him, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"Calleigh," he said. She wouldn't look at him. He set a hand on her back, but she jerked away, standing up from the bed. "Calleigh, why won't you look at me?" he asked weakly. He had to lie back on the bed again, feeling adrenaline leave his system, even talking made him exhausted.

His voice made her turn, and she wasn't crying anymore, even though her eyes were still red.

"You should get some rest, you look tired," she said to him blankly. She went to leave, and reached the door before Ryan spoke up.

"I'm not," he said. "I'm not tired. Please stay Calleigh. Please. Don't leave me alone," he said. He didn't want to sound weak, but he needed her there with him.

Her hand was on the closed door, and she pressed her forehead to it, closing her eyes. "I just don't know what to do anymore, Ryan," she said quietly.

"Come back. Please," he begged, close to tears.

She heard desperation in his voice, fear, even. He was scaring her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry for everything that's happened, I'm sorry for everything I've put you all through. I just want normalcy again, I don't want to be in constant pain and fear all the time. As much as I hate Benningzer for what he did to me, I actually pity him, and it makes me hate myself, because he's got a mother somewhere, maybe a son, a brother, a wife that's crying because of what_ I _did to _him_. I need you here, Cal, please. I know I've caused you guys pain, I'm probably annoying you all to hell, but I'm sorry. I really am, you have to believe me," he told her softly, tears now streaking his face. Her shoulders were shaking, her other hand had covered her face, or part of it. She was still leaning her head on the door as she cried silently.

Calleigh knew he'd noticed. God, she was making him feel worse. Everything was making him feel worse. He was an emotional wreck, right now, and had been for the past month. She took a deep breath, and another. She opened her eyes, turning back toward Ryan and lazily walked back to the bed. She looked at him, and found herself sitting beside him again. He _was_ a mess. His hair had grown about an inch longer, and it hung over onto his forehead. The nurse must have shaved his face for him that night, it was clean. But that made it easier to see the bruises and scars. His eyes were sad and tired, and she missed the old Ryan. "I can stay for a few more hours, ok? I've missed a lot of work these past few weeks, and I'm actually surprised the doctors have been so lenient on visitation. But I'll stay. All right?"

He looked up at her and smiled. "Thank you," he told her, and his smile faded and he averted his gaze.

"Ryan," she said. He closed his eyes.

"Mmm hmm?"

She leaned over him and touched her lips softly to his and kissed them lightly. She rested her head on his neck as she lay beside him, pulling her feet onto the bed. He opened his eyes as she put her arm across his chest. "Am I hurting you," she whispered.

"No," he said, putting his arm around her back, setting his hand on her side, and he placed a kiss in her hair, closing his eyes again.

**Yeah, ok, so nobody's been reviewing, what's up gangstas?! Seriously, I need reviews to keep me going, it's like Pop-Eye's spinache. Come on, homies! I'm not posting another chapter until I get three reviews for this chapter, come on! Is that too much to ask?! Just kidding...no I'm not, I'm Aweena. But really, people, come on. Come on. School starts in like 10 days, I gotta get going pretty soon.**

**BI**


	18. Chapter 18

**My mom wants to know something. I wonder what it is. Anyways, I don't own CSI Miami or its characters, so deal with it, because you don't own them, either! Biatch! Just kidding. **

**Chapter 18**

Ryan was actually in a good mood, he was genuinely happy. It had been three days since he'd been attacked, but he was finally being discharged from the hospital. Calleigh had called him that afternoon and said she had to work second shift, so she couldn't take him home. He was a little distraught, but decided to take advantage of him mood. After thanking his doctor and the nursing staff, he went down to the lobby, where he met up with Natalia.

"Hey, Natalia. What're you doing here?" he asked, shifting his backpack on his good arm.

"I came here to help you out, if that's ok. It's just that you've been having a rough time, and I thought I'd swing by," she said.

Ryan felt uncomfortable with it at first, but made the decision that help would be nice for a change. "I don't have a ride," he said.

"Ok, you want me to get your bag?" she asked as they walked out of the hospital.

"No, I've got it. But thank you," he told her. He was having a hard time with his cane after having hardly any space to walk the past three days, he had to get used to it again, and his bag wasn't making it any easier, but he would be damned if he couldn't carry his own bag 30 feet. "You know," he said, pushing the thought away, "I do have a question, though."

They reached the hummer and he got into the passenger's side.

"Yeah?" she asked, opening her door. He waited until they were both in and situated before stating the question.

"I was missing for ten days, right?" he asked.

"Is that your question?" she asked him, feeling uncomfortable.

"No, that's not my question," he said with a laugh. "I'm just glad I didn't have to paparazzi on my back. I've seen it happen before, and I think I might've done a Britney if it happened to me. You guys wouldn't have had anything to do with that, would you?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Well, let's just say Horatio is the godfather of his own little mob," she said with a smile. She started the hummer and they drove in silence. They reached his apartment twenty minutes later, and she parked in the lot. Natalia looked over and realized why it had been so quiet; Ryan was sleeping. "Ryan?" she said after a moment. He didn't respond, so she set a hand on his arm. "Ryan we're here."

His eyes shot open and he jerked away from her, wincing from the pain in his ribs.

Natalia pulled back as she watched his eyes dart around. He looked like a whipped dog, and it made her want to cry. His eyes finally settled on her, and he relaxed slightly.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked in a shaky voice.

"No. Are you all right, Ryan," she asked him.

"I'm fine, I'm just...fine," he said, leaning back into the seat, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be sorry, Ryan. You didn't do anything wrong. You're the victim in all of this, and if anyone should be sorry, it's me. Ten days...ten days was a long time for us, but I know it was even longer for you. And I...I don't know how you held on so long. Look, he...he wouldn't even give you _water_, and you look so much more different than I remember, Ryan. I haven't gotten used to it, and I don't think I ever will, because every time I look at you, I can't even imagine what you went through, and you live with it. I would have gone ballistic long ago. I mean, Ryan, how do you go on like this?" she asked him.

He was looking at her now, thinking of what to say, not knowing what to say, so he just told her the truth. "I knew you guys wouldn't give up on me," he said simply.

Natalia forced a smile, tears shining in her eyes.

"There were a few times...well, I guess more that a few times, when I thought I would die in there. Before I lost consciousness, the last time, I thought that was it. But you know, you guys _did_ find me. I knew you would, I just didn't know if it would be soon enough. I know it sounds cheesy, but it's true," he told her. "And I don't want you guys to feel bad about what happened to me. Especially Eric. It could've happened to anyone. I mean, he _saved my life_, Natalia, and he thinks it's his fault I was abducted. Every time you guys look at me, you see him, what he did, and you don't see me. I know I'm thinner, my eyes are different, my hair, I've got a bum leg and a paralyzed hand, and that's what you guys see. What you don't see is that I'm still Ryan Wolfe, I just have a few glitches I need to take care of. You know, I haven't seen a psychiatrist, so I can't get Prozac, I can't get Lorazepam, or anything like that to help me deal with this, I just have a hell of a lot of Tylenol for the pain. I hardly sleep anymore, instead, I stay up and clean my damned apartment that's already been cleaned six times that same day, I take four showers everyday, I can't listen to music or watch TV because they're triggers, and I have to make sure all my windows and doors are locked and my curtains are drawn and my gun is loaded before I can relax. It wasn't as bad when you were staying with me, because when someone was with me, I didn't-" He stopped himself abruptly, looking out the window.

"Ryan, I'm not judging you," Natalia said softly.

He still didn't say anything for a long time, but he closed his eyes, and when he decided to talk, his voice was weak and quiet. "I didn't feel so alone," he told her. "I...I didn't feel paranoid, I felt...safe, I guess. And since I've been in the hospital, I read most of the time, and I felt safe in there for two reasons. One: the officer at my door, and two: you guys never left me alone. And thank you for that. I just...I want you guys to know that everything you've done for me has been greatly appreciated. I don't know if you guys know how much it means to me. Umm...Calleigh should be getting off work in two hours and-" He stopped and checked his watch. "Thirty-two minutes. I'll be all right 'til then, but thank you for the ride, I'd better go," he said quickly, opening the door. "I'm sorry for spilling out on you, I just sort of...hell, I don't know what I was thinking, you probably think I'm crazy. But you know, why wouldn't I be? I spent eight days in hell, and I'm still not back. I'll shut up, now. I'll see you later," he told her.

"Ryan, wait," she said before he stepped out. He turned to her after pulling his cane out of the back seat. "Thank you. For trusting me. I'll call, ok?"

"All right. Thanks for the ride," he said again with a nod, and he hopped out, turning to close the door, and he waved after her as she pulled away.

Once he was in his apartment, he threw his cane down and realized his apartment was _clean_. The team. They took care of the mess, why would they do that for him? And then his phone range. He stared at it for a few moments as thought it were evil, then decided to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Eric. How do you like your new coffee table?" he asked.

"It's great, thanks. You guys didn't have to do that. But it's great," he said, plopping down onto his recliner.

"Glad you like it. Listen, Calleigh said something about a woman. When you were...taken by Benningzer, she said that you told her you heard a woman screaming," Eric said.

Ryan rubbed his eye, feeling uncomfortable. "Uh...yeah, what about her?" he asked, trying to sound normal.

"Yeah. Um...Wolfe, we found her body. Mutilated. I shouldn't be telling you this, but I thought that you'd want to know," he said.

"I do. Thanks, Eric," he said, closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," Eric said.

"What was her name?" Ryan asked after a moment of silence.

"Rachel Harris."

"Who was she?" asked Ryan, leaning forward, eyes still closed.

"Ryan-"

"Just answer the question. Please."

He heard Eric sigh heavily on the other line, but it wasn't long before he spoke. "She was a social worker. She was going through divorce, has three kids. Now does that make you feel any better?" Eric asked, sounding irritated.

"I just needed to know who she was, Eric," he said, attempting to steady his voice. His eyes were stinging, and he wondered, 'Why am I still alive? Why was I so different?'

"Ryan, are you there?" Eric asked.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"I'll let you go, then, all right? You sound tired, get some rest," Eric said, and Ryan caught him just before he hung up.

"Hey, Eric?"

"Yeah?"

"You remember...um...you know you saved my life that day, don't you?" Ryan asked.

"Ryan, are you all right?" Eric asked him.

"I'm fine, I really am. But...you know I'd rather be MIA than DOA, right? You made a snap decision when you pushed me away from the truck. It's like taking a bullet for me, man. I want you to know that I would do the same for you. I would have, and I keep thinking, you know, if I had been a little more alert, you wouldn't have ended up bleeding on the ground. I just feel that if I had-"

"Ryan, stop talking for a sec," Eric said with a little laugh. "Ryan. I would do it ten times over again. I'm supposed to be the one feeling guilty, here. I got hit by a truck, and you...well, let's say you got the short end of the stick. Why are you feeling guilty about this, man, it wasn't your fault, and I'm gonna tell you the exact same thing that you told me. There's a man in a coma in the ICU. You wanna blame someone-"

"Go blame him. Thanks, Eric," Ryan said, actually feeling a little better.

"Are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

"All right. Make sure you get your ass to PT on time so you can get back to work, were swamped," he joked.

"Can't handle the heat, Eric? Face it, you guys are lost without me."

"Yeah, yeah. We're blind and hopeless."

"I've got that on tape," Ryan said. "Anyways, see ya around. I need to get something to eat before I starve."

"All right. Take care."

"You, too," he said, and they ended the conversation.

So that was taken care of. And he actually did feel hungry. That was new. He hadn't been able to eat without feeling sick for the past month.

He went to the cabinet, and the old nursery rhyme popped into his head. He always thought Old Mother Hubbard was sad, but at least he didn't have a dog to take care of at the moment, he couldn't even take care of himself.

Ryan stood there for a bit, leaning against the counter staring at the cupboard. A sudden feeling of compulsion swept over him as he stared at the cupboard. Dust. There was dust in his cupboard. Well, if there was dust in one, there was dust in all of them. He turned away and thought about what Alexx had said about his OCD. But _dust_. He couldn't have dust all through his house. So he went to his supply closet.

**Man, I've got like carpal tunnel, now, seriously. I'm gonna be dead pretty soon from typing so much. I just typed eight pages in like an hour, and checked it all and everything, I'm gonna go before I fall over. Bie:0D**

**Please review!**


	19. Chapter 19

**All right, so I'm almost done with the story, ok? So you guys can go off and forget about pinapple...no! Don't forget about the pinapple! Yes...I own CSI Miami and its characters, that's why I don't have any money and go shopping once a year...haha. Jk, but anyways, hope you like this next chapter, because it took me forever to write.**

**Chapter 19**

He'd been awake for the past two days, had skipped PT, didn't call anyone and didn't take any calls, didn't answer the door and didn't go anywhere. He didn't sleep. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep. He cleaned.

It was amazing what could be found in the smallest cracks, holes, corners. Dust. Dirt. Mildew. He fixed leaky pipes he hadn't known were even there, he cleaned the shower, sinks, toilet, floors, walls, ceiling, dusted the bulbs, cleaned the windows, pulled the curtains, wash his entire wardrobe, dust could be anywhere, rewashed all the dishes, cleaned out the fridge until there was nothing left. He'd taken four showers that day, three the day before, changed his clothes each time, wore a new pair of gloves every hour, he had the air on high so he wouldn't sweat, he swept the floors, mopped, and swept again after it dried, he cleaned under his nails, brushed his teeth, after all, he had to be clean, because he was part of the hour, and the house couldn't be dirty, it had to be spotless.

He wiped down his electronics, dust, fingerprints, gone, took out the trash six times the past two days, shoved his magazines and books into his closet, he couldn't throw the magazines away, me may need them sometime, two separate bins, The Bible would be at the bottom. Why not? God had already forgotten him. _Without suffering, there would be no compassion. Tell that to the ones who suffer_. Who in the hell had said that? A Walk to Remember, he'd watched it with Calleigh and Eric and Natalia two years ago. When everything was normal. _Tell that to the ones who suffer_. A hell of a line, there.

He thought about this while he scrubbed his bed frame for the third time that day, feeling his blisters peel back, his head pounded, his ribs burned with every movement, his knee was numb from him abusing it repeatedly the past two days, a lot of the work he'd done involved getting on hands and knees, he'd had a hell of a time cleaning behind the refrigerator and behind and under the stove. He was running out of soap, running out of paper towels, tissues, tp, Windex, Pinesol, Gold On, running low on everything. He realized he'd stopped scrubbing, and he sat back on the bed. He was barefoot, and had stayed that way all the time he was inside, who knew what he had picked up out there?

He missed Calleigh. He missed Alexx, he missed Eric, Natalia, Horatio, Valera, but he missed Calleigh, and he even missed Rick, but God, he missed Calleigh so much.

And then he realized how tired he was, hot tired his _body_ was, his mind, and what was left of his broken spirit. He threw his glove in the waste basket by his bed and he could have fell asleep right then and there, but that damned latex smell covered his hand, his good hand. Missing PT was going to set him back, not sleeping was setting him back, not eating, drinking, just cleaning constantly, it was setting him back. He thought about what he'd do with his life if he couldn't go back to work as he walked tiredly into the den, then to the kitchen, and he turned on the water. He could write a book. But he couldn't write, and he wasn't going to hire someone to do it for him. Maybe he could learn to use his left hand, it would take a while, though. Not like he had a choice.

The phone rang.

He'd left the rag on his head board. He ignored the ringing and went back into his room, knocking the rag into the trash.

He's still not answering his phone," Calleigh told Horatio.

"He just needs some space, Calleigh. I'm sure he's fine," Horatio replied. "Have you told him about the court date, yet?"

"No, he won't talk to me, he won't talk to anyone. I've called, I've visited him. He missed his physical therapy yesterday. What if he stays like this, Horatio?" Calleigh asked quietly.

"He won't. He has you, and I'll bet he misses you, but he's having a hard time dealing with his emotions right now. He's confused, Benningzer sent him on an emotional rollercoaster with an Energizer battery, it just keeps going and going. Give him time he's just trying to learn how to deal with it."

"Ok. Thank you, Horatio," she said, and stood up. She was about to leave Horatio's office before he spoke.

"And Calleigh," he said.

"Yeah."

"Please remind him about...about seeing someone about this. I know he's dealing with what happened, but what worries me is how he's dealing with it. Send him my regards."

"Will do. See you in the morning," she told him, and he nodded.

After her shift ended, she drove, once again, to Ryan's apartment. She knocked on his door, she rang his doorbell, she called. He didn't answer.

She sighed and leaned her head on the door, and nearly fell forward when it opened. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him.

"Ryan, what happened to you? You look terrible," she said.

He didn't say anything, but he looked at her for a long time. His eyes were sad and hollow, he looked tired, but his hair was neat and his beard had been shaved. And yet he didn't look like the Ryan she knew. "I...I need help, Cal," he said quietly, his voice weak and hoarse. The sudden declaration startled her, but she tried not to show it.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

"Are you a vampire?" he asked with a tired smile.

She smiled back at him, and she felt better. He still had his humor.

Ryan stepped aside and let her through, then closed the door behind her.

"Oh my God, Ryan. What have you been doing all this time?" she asked, scanning the place. Everything was different since the last time she had been there, everything was _cleaner_, if that was possible with Ryan Wolfe. It obviously was. The walls, the floors, shelves, everything was perfectly immaculate.

"Umm...cleaning. There was...dust...everywhere," he said, sitting on the sofa.

"You need help?" she repeated his statement.

"Psychiatric. I'm not getting better, I'm getting worse," he explained.

Calleigh sat beside him, and leaned her head on his shoulder. "You're boney, Ryan. When's the last time you ate?" she asked, lifting her head, but holding his good hand in hers.

He didn't look at her when he spoke next. "A couple of days. I haven't had anything to drink...I've gotten used to it, that's how it's been the past few weeks. I went through a sort of phase this week. I'm sorry I ignored you guys." 

"Ryan. Don't apologize. Please. I don't understand what you're going through, but I understand that you need some space. Maybe a lot of space. Just take your time, and I'll be here when you're ready to come out. Ok?"

"I just want it to be normal again, Cal," he said.

"I know, Ryan," she said, rubbing his back, and she rested her head back onto his shoulder. "Everything will turn out, Ryan, I promise."

"Thank you," he whispered. He held her hand gently, and kissed the top of her head.

"They sat there for a long time, not moving, just sitting there.

"Horatio wanted me to talk to you about something, Ryan," Calleigh said after a while.

"Yeah?"

"Don't get mad," she told him.

"I won't get mad," he promised.

"It's about the court date," she said, looking at him, and he returned her gaze.

"What about it?" he asked.

"Well, they can't exactly charge Benningzer because he's comatose. The doctors don't think he's going to wake up, Ryan, so he's...he's not going to jail," she told him.

"He's already in jail," Ryan said in a whisper.

"You should get some sleep, Ryan. I'll make you something to eat, just go to bed, all right? You look terrible," she said, and got to her feet slowly as he let her hand slip away.

"I don't have any food here. I threw it all out," he told her as he stood, also. "Don't worry about it."

"_You_ don't worry about it. I'll pick something up. Ryan?" she said.

He looked at her.

"You know I care about you. I don't want you to hurt anymore," she told him as her eyes watered.

"Cal," he whispered, pulling her into a hug. She didn't move, she just hanged there, relaxing into his arms.

"I'm scared for you, Ryan," she whispered.

He thought about his dream, about the house, the Normal Ryan. She wanted him back.

"You don't have to be, Calleigh. I'm ok...I will be ok. You don't need to worry, I don't _want_ you to worry. I want to be here for you like you've been here for me, I just want to be normal again, and I'm working on it, but I can't suppress the thoughts and emotions that make me fall into myself. There's a question that's been nagging at me ever since this all happened, and I've been thinking about how to answer it, but I've come to realize that the only person who can answer that question is in a coma. And I may never know," he told her. She pulled back, caressing his pale cheek with her hand.

"What's your question, Ryan?" she spoke softly. Her eyes glistened like two ponds in the moonlight.

"Why did he do it?" he whispered.

"Ryan, I don't think even Benningzer knows the answer to that question, but I have a guess: insanity. Don't wrack your brain for that answer, Ryan, because it won't help you a bit," she said, and he didn't say anything, so she continued. "Do you enjoy poetry, Ryan?"

"What?" he asked, taken off guard.

"They have public poetry groups all through out Miami. You could go to one and express your feelings through poetry. They don't judge in poetry groups, people there are open-minded most of the time," Calleigh said. "I don't know if poetry's your thing, but..."

"You seem to know a lot about them," he said with a questioning look.

Calleigh smiled lightly, still looking at him. "After John died, I didn't really take time of, but I went to poetry sessions. They didn't get rid of the anger and sadness I felt, but I felt like I fit in there, nobody tired to tell me they understood what I was going through, because they knew that I knew they did. No-one judged me there. If that's what's worrying you, just go to one, and you'll see. Psychiatrists, they're no different from your or me except they have a psychology degree. They _want _to help you, Ryan, that's why they're there. I'm here, too, Ryan. You've hardly spoken about what happened. It's unhealthy," she told him.

"Thank you. Really, thank you for sticking with me throughout all of this," Ryan said. "And I enjoy poetry, Cal. I don't write much, but I was a large fan of Giesel as a kid," he said with a smile.

"Ah, Dr. Seuss. A very witty man," Calleigh said through her own honest smile. It was silent again, but a comfortable silence, and she realized Ryan looked drained. More so than before, at the least. "Ryan, you should really get off your leg. Come on, let's get you in bed."

Calleigh helped Ryan to his room and he crashed into his blankets, feeling relief float through him as he was finally able to rest.

"Let me take a look at it, Ryan, " Calleigh said, sitting down beside him.

"At what?" he mumbled tiredly, closing his eyes.

"Your leg. You've been cleaning the past two days, you're gonna need something for the pain. It's probably inflamed again, Ryan."

"It's numb, it doesn't hurt," Ryan whispered as he threw his good arm over his eyes to block the light. He felt Calleigh pull his shoes off of his feet, and he flicked his foot away, stifling a laugh. "Is someone ticklish?" she asked with a smile.

"What're you doing?"

"_You _need to stop worrying over everything. Our rodeo's in two weeks. We're gonna have fun, right?" she asked.

"Course," he said. "I always have fun when I'm with you."

She smiled and fiddled with his pant leg. "Can I look at your knee?"

He sighed and closed his eyes again. "Whatever floats your boat."

Calleigh looked at Ryan's face for a moment, making a mental note to make sure he actually ate this week. She turned her attention back to his leg and began to roll his pant leg up.

"Oh, God, Ryan," she whispered. She shifted her gaze to look at him and spoke again. "You didn't take time to look at this before? I have to take you to the hospital, right now."

"No, Cal, don't overreact," Ryan said, opening his eyes. He sat up slowly and looked at his knee, and understood why she had overreacted, because she _hadn't _overreacted. "Jesus."

"Do you still have your wheelchair?" she asked him.

"Cal, I can walk, and I don't need to go to the hospital."

"You're going," she said with a stern look.

Ryan wanted to object, but realized that argument wouldn't help when he knew Calleigh was right. "Can I at least walk in and retain the ounce of dignity I have left?"

"Ryan," she began, but her features softened. "Where's your cane?" Ryan sat up, carefully slinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"By my nightstand," he told her. Calleigh stood and handed him his cane, and they left the apartment.

**WOW. Ok, so that took me like three days to type, seriously. Well, I'm done, now, and I hope that you guys like it, and YOU'D BETTER LIKE IT BECAUSE I SUSPENDED READING HARRY POTTER 7 SO I COULD FINISH THIS FING CHAPTER! Ok...I'm ok...for now. Please review! BI**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20...ok, so I'm kinda trying not to draw the story out, but I was never too good at endings, especially not happy ones, and I haven't wrote the end, yet, so yeah. Maybe three chapters left. I don't own CSI Miami or its characters, and if I said that I did, Jerry or CBS or anyone would have a heck of a time tracking me...well, maybe not, but I won't make it easy! **

**Also, I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO UPDATE FOR A WHILE! **

**I've started school, and I'm taking some pretty hard classes, so I may not be updating until this weekend, but I might be able to update sooner, if I get all my homework done before 9, cuz it usually takes me a while, I have to make sure I have it all right. Ok, then...**

**Chapter 20**

Horatio entered the warehouse after a moment's hesitation. The darkness reached him, and he slid his sunglasses from his face and folded them carefully, setting them in his jacket pocket. Horatio flicked the light on, and a very familiar crime scene came into view. He left the door open behind him as he walked a few steps forward until he came to a door, and he opened it, and descended the stairs on the other side. The image of Ryan, half alive, on the stretcher flashed through his mind, but was gone within a second. The door at the bottom of the stairs had been removed, so he continued. He then turned _that_ light on, and pulled out his flashlight. The next room wasn't as pleasant as the previous two, and he wasn't really looking forward to entering it, but he knew he had to. Horatio stalked through the doorway, perusing the room with his light, Ryan's dungeon, the prison that still entrapped his CSI's mind. The blood had since been cleaned up, the room was immaculate, save for a few bugs and leaves that had filtered in from the window. It had been a long drive, almost an hour, from HQ to the warehouse, and there weren't many places nearby. No-one had heard Ryan's screams.

Horatio closed his eyes, pushing the thought away. He had to stay focused, he couldn't be distracted, he needed to think. What in the world was Benningzer playing at? Calleigh had called him from the hospital, she had arrived with Ryan moments before. She told him what had happened. Ryan was falling apart by trying to pull himself together.

H opened his eyes as he sighed and leaned against the stone wall. This wasn't working. _Nothing_ was working. He pulled his cell and dialed Eric's number. It rang three times before he got an answer.

"Delko," came the voice.

"Eric, could you call Calleigh for me? I want you both to meet me at HQ. Call Natalia, also. I need to speak with all of you about Ryan."

"All right. We'll meet you there in an hour. That all right?" Eric asked.

"That's fine. See you in an hour," Horatio replied, and pocketed his cell. After a few moments in the dark, he exited the warehouse and got in the hummer, and arrived at HQ in the first half of the hour.

He felt sick, disoriented, mental. The sounds continued to echo in his mind, images flashed before his eyes, thoughts hammered in his head, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. Even in his sleep, they tortured him mercilessly until he awoke screaming for someone, for anyone, to take the pain away. Nothing could be done. It would continue until the day he died.

Calleigh left. She told him she'd been called away on a case, but there was something in his voice that led him to believe otherwise. The doctor had given him Codeine and Clozaril to deal with his knee and his behavior, but it didn't stop the wheels of his mind from turning. Calleigh had stopped at a McDonalds and forced a meal onto him, but the heart attack on a bun didn't seem too inviting, but he'd finished off his fries so she wouldn't lecture him. It made him feel like he was ten again at McDonalds with his mom...the thought nearly made him laugh.

Ryan got up from his mattress and limped painfully to his dresser, pulling out a notebook and pen. The feeling in his knee had come back in the past hour he'd been resting, and he didn't know if that was a good thing or not. He sat heavily on his bed, setting the open notebook on his lap. He didn't know if he could do this. Not writing a poem, of course he could write a poem. It'd be a bit sloppy, but...his feelings. He was never good with sentimental feelings. Nobody had to read this, not until he was ready, and he never had to be ready. He took the pen into his left hand shakily, bit off the cap, and set it to the page.

"He needs to revisit the crime scene," Horatio said, causing the others to look at him incredulously, with the exception of Eric, who spoke next.

"H's right. It won't help Wolfe to forget about the place. How he deals with the problem isn't healthy, and it's been causing more problems. I think what H wants is for Ryan to face his fears," Eric explained.

"Face his _fears? _Don't you think taking him to that place is a little drastic? You guys, Ryan was held captive in that place for eight days with no nourishment, and the only human contact he had was with his tormenter. Going back to the warehouse could force him to have a psychotic break," Natalia argued.

"Well, we can't just ignore what's happening, we should intervene," Eric said. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Ryan thinks he can handle this by himself, but he's wrong. He needs help, and he won't go to anyone, he hasn't even told the entire story of what happened."

"He has," Horatio said, drawing everyone's attention.

"He told you?" Eric asked.

"He gave me his statement," Horatio confirmed. "I have considered the possibility of Mr. Wolfe having a psychotic break, but I have a greater fear that if we don't do something soon, it will be too late."

Calleigh spoke up for the first time since their "meeting" began. "This doesn't feel right."

"What?" Eric asked.

"_This._ Shouldn't one of us confront Ryan with it? It feels wrong, like we're plotting against him, or something," Calleigh said.

"We should bring up the idea. I...I will ask him," Horatio said.

"No, I'll do it. I'm headed that way," Calleigh said. It was quiet for a short moment, but the others finally agreed the subject should be brought up, and the fact that both Horatio and Calleigh had volunteered to do it made their day a whole lot easier, and Calleigh's a whole lot harder.

The "meeting" ended, and Calleigh went out to her car and drove back to Ryan's apartment.

**That's what you get, all right? Last chapter was like the hugest freaking thing in the world. Please review and tell me how it's going! And thanks to those of you who have been reviewing, everyone else seems to have abandoned me! Bie! BI**


	21. Chapter 21

**LAST CHAPTER! FINALLY!**

**Right, well, school's so far so good...how's it going for everyone out there? Thank you for the reviews, you guys, really! I don't own CSI Miami or its characters, though Ryan would be a nice touch to my collection...**

**Chapter 21**

The door was locked. Again. She sighed heavily and pounded on the door, praying he wasn't having another episode. She waited a minute, then turned to leave, just as the door opened.

"Cal," Ryan said breathlessly. She turned back to face him with relief in her eyes. She must have been staring, because he looked away bashfully. "Just got out of the shower," he said, explaining his shirtless attire. "I have something for you. It's not big, but..." Ryan turned and headed back into the apartment, leaving the door wide open, so she entered, closing the door behind her, then locking the three locks on it. She'd been gone for nearly three hours, and was sure Ryan hadn't had a blink of sleep from the way he was acting. The front room was empty as she looked around, he must've went into his bedroom. He limped back into the front room within a few seconds, holding a small piece of metal in his hand along with his cane.

Calleigh smiled as the thought of House flashed through her mind, but she quickly hid it.

"Cal, you don't have to stand, take a seat," he told her, so she did. "I have..." he said, pausing as he sat down, "a key for you." Ryan raised the key after leaning his cane on the coffee table.

"What's it to?"

"My apartment," he told her, and quickly added, "And not just because I keep locking you out, even though that's part of it, but...I trust you more than anyone I know. I want you to know that, so yesterday, I got my key copied, so...here." Ryan held the key out to her, and she took it slowly.

"Thank you, Ryan," she said, quietly. "I know this is a big step for you, trusting me. Can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure," he told her.

Calleigh slid the key into her jacket pocket carefully and looked up at him. "I didn't get called off on a case," she told him uneasily. When she saw the look on his face, she said, "It's not what you think. Horatio wanted to meet with us. Eric, Natalia, and I. I didn't know it was about you until I got there, but it felt wrong, like we were conspiring against you, but...we want to help you, Ryan. All of us," she said, sending them into an uncomfortable silence.

Ryan leaned back on the sofa as he set his elbow on the arm, staring at the wall in thought. Finally, he spoke.

"So what do you want?" he asked, still staring at the wall.

"Horatio thought...he...would you go back to the warehouse, Ryan?"

Ryan didn't say anything as his gaze shifted to his nerve-damaged hand. The warehouse...the warehouse.

Calleigh shifted uncomfortably under the tension that filled the room. Ryan looked lost, and she felt terrible for putting him in this position. She'd been so used to the quiet that she nearly jumped up at the sound of his voice.

"Cal, I...I don't know," he whispered, looking over at her with a pained expression. "I don't know if I can."

"You don't have to, Ryan. Not now, not at all. It was just a suggestion Horatio made," she said. "We thought it might be a good idea."

Ryan turned to her. "You thought it was a good idea?"

_Oh, God._ He didn't look mad...he didn't look anything, his expression was blank. "We thought...well...Ryan, we thought it would be like a face-your-fears kinda thing. I know it's a little drastic, but it could help." He still didn't do anything, so she tried again. "I know...I know what he did to you there, Ryan, I know what you went through, but...Ryan, I think it could really do something for you."

"I...I need to think about it, can I think about it? No, no, I don't...I don't need to think about it, you're right, I need to do this," he said in one jumbled statement, like he was arguing with himself. "I have to do it," he told her. "When?"

Calleigh was slightly shocked that he'd actually agreed, but she told him. "Whenever you're ready. We'll all be there with you. You won't be alone, Ryan. We can do it tomorrow, next week, next month. It's your call."

"Today," he said quietly. "I have to get it done and over with." God, he didn't know if he could do it today, but he _had_ to do it today.

"All right. Ok, I'll call the others, we're in this together. You hear me?" she said comfortingly.

Ryan nodded as she pulled out her cell and dialed.

_I can do this. I have to do this, it's the only way._

They rode in silence, excluding the sound of the air conditioning. It was already freezing in there, but Ryan broke into a nervous sweat the minute they got in. Calleigh reached over and squeezed his hand gently, reassuringly. They made a moment's eye contact, and he gave her a smile before she turned her attention back to the pavement.

The two arrived within the hour, the others had yet to show up. Calleigh stepped out of the car, but Ryan hesitated for a moment.

"Are you going to be all right, Ryan?" Calleigh asked, ducking her head into the driver side window.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just give me a sec," he said. He sighed and opened the door, stepping out with his cane.

It wasn't long before the department's Hummer showed up, revealing Horatio and Eric, and Natalia followed in a small town car.

"This feels strange," Ryan whispered to Calleigh as the three approached.

"We're your friends. You said you trust me," she said. "You'll be ok."

Ryan still felt unsure, and knew he looked unsure, but he couldn't help it.

"Are you ready?" Horatio asked.

"Yeah, I...no...I don't..." Ryan was at a loss for words as a feeling swept over him, the kind of feeling he'd get before he'd ask a girl out, the kind he'd get before watching a horror movie, the kind of feeling he'd get when...when Benningzer came into the room to torture him...fear, apprehension... "I can't do this, I can't," he said, giving Horatio a pleading look. "What in hell is going on with my head? It won't stop," he said, his voice cracking under the strain.

"You don't have to do this, Ryan," Horatio said quietly, avoiding the others' hearing. "Nobody's forcing this onto you."

"H, Natalia and I can wait by the Hummer. Wolfe, we aren't pressuring you, take your time. We don't want you to feel overwhelmed," Eric said.

"Ryan?" Calleigh said. She grabbed both his hands, caressing the back of his numb hand with her thumb. "It's completely up to you," she whispered.

"Just...just give me a few moments alone...I want to go in alone, right now," he told her.

"Are you sure?" Calleigh asked.

"Yeah, I just need to think. Five minutes, and I'll be out," he said.

"Ok," she replied, and he glanced at them all before turning and approaching the door. He'd never actually seen anything of the warehouse except the two rooms he'd been held captive in. It was dark inside, and he pulled out the flashlight Horatio'd given him. It was a little complicated trying to hold his cane and light in the same hand, but he managed. The sunlight filtering in lit the first room, but the stairway was incredibly black. His breath caught in his throat as he swung the light down the dark passage. Fear crept under his skin as he descended, and familiarization began to form into his mind. He couldn't turn back. He only needed to look at the room, that was all. Then he could leave, he could forget about all of it. He passed through the first room and stopped in the doorway. It was dark, despite the small amount of light draining in through the window. The sun wasn't on that side of the house, so it made it harder to see. That was probably a good thing.

His mind screamed at him to turn around and leave, but his feet wouldn't obey, and he stepped forward. His cane slid on something, and he fell, smacking his knee on the cement. He held back a cry as he stared at the cold ground so close to his face. Crimson liquid poured out onto the ground before him as his vision grayed, then returned to normal, but forced him into a dizzy spell. His breathing became heavy as he frantically shot up, away from the object on the floor. The pipe. No, his mind was playing tricks on him. He shook his head. It was his cane. Was it? Ryan stared into the darkness directly behind the cane. _He's here. He knows you're here._

Ryan pushed himself backward into the corner, feeling warm liquid run down his cheek, to his jaw line, onto his neck, soaking his T-shirt collar. This couldn't be right. They were outside, right outside, he was ok. He had to keep it together. The flashlight was on the ground just two feet ahead of him. He just had to reach out and grab it, it was as simple as that. He lunged forward and snatched the flashlight from the ground. Ryan clumsily pulled himself to his feet, taking a few controlled breaths, then slowly pointed the light into the darkness. _No._

"No," he said aloud. "No, no, no." He shook his head, trying to back up, but there was nowhere to back up, he was already against the wall. He dropped the flashlight. It went out. It was so dark, was it all in his mind? "You're not real," he whispered. "You're...not here, you're not here, you can't..." Ryan pressed himself against the wall hard, like he somehow might be able to phase through it, but he knew he was trapped. "This isn't happening again. It's not gonna happen again," he said. "God dammit, why won't you just leave me the hell alone?!" He turned. He knew it wasn't real, it was all in his mind, but damn it, it was driving him crazy having to live like this.

He screamed out his agony, spinning around and slamming his fist into the concrete wall. He screamed again, this time from physical pain as he held his tortured hand in the other. His distorted hand, right hand..._right_ hand?

He heard footsteps and clutter as the others made their way to him, flashlights in hand. And he could move his arm, he'd moved his arm, his arm...

"Ryan?!" came Horatio's voice. The light shined in his face, but was quickly removed as it ventured to his hand. "Are you all right?"

"I'm..." Ryan's voice came out cracked, and he tried again. "I'm ok. I'm ok, now," he told them. Eric approached him from the darkness and threw his arm around his shoulders lightly.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get back to the light."

Ryan allowed himself to be led outside, and he leaned against the building's wall as he closed his eyes, and slid to the ground. He felt a presence beside him, and he looked up to see Calleigh kneeling beside him.

She looked down at his hand, mutilated, but he wasn't upset. She saw his tired smile, but there was something else in his eyes, this time, a glint, a small shine, that showed her that he knew it would be ok.

Calleigh glanced back at the others, then turned to Ryan again. "You hurt your head," she told him. He had a nice gash on the side of his face, which was leaking blood profusely. "Come on, Ryan. We'll take you to the hospital."

"My hand worked," he whispered. "It worked."

Calleigh smiled at him and helped him to his feet. "I told you it would be ok."

"I know," he said.

She leaned forward into his chest, and he hugged her with his good arm. It would be ok.

**THE END!**

**Awwwww. I bet you all hated that, right? Tell me the truth, reviews for the last chapter count for the most points! So I actually finished this about three days ago, but I haven't been able to get it up because of school, but please tell me how I did! And thank you all who reviewed in the past, I'll remember! Bie:0D**


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